


Find the Strand

by starsandauras



Series: The World's a Beast of a Burden [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Academics, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arcanist Guild, Asexual Characters, Asexual Relationship, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Cooking, Bending the lore until it screams for mercy, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Character on the Autism Spectrum, Character with ADHD, Common Law Marriage, Cooking, Dancing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fiber Arts, First Meetings, Food Porn, Found Family, Gen, Hair Braiding, Illness, Languages and Linguistics, M/M, Making Friends, Marriage Discussion, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Multiple Warriors of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Parent Death, Polyamorous Characters, Polyamory, Rage, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romantic Fluff, Roses, Sickfic, Sleep Deprivation, THAT Heavensward spoiler, Tattoos, Teasing, Treasure Hunting, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2018, Will's Accent, flattery, not that Eorzea has the words for that, parental abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 27,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17256062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandauras/pseuds/starsandauras
Summary: Fills for #FFXIVWrite2018 prompt challenge, featuring yet again the dysfunctional Warriors of Light that are the O'Donnells, their lives, and adventures.





	1. Table of Contents

**1\. Table of Contents**  
(You are here!)

**2\. Burden of Worry**  
(Gen. The stress of suddenly becoming the one to care for family. Warnings for parental death, parental abandonment, and alcoholism.)

**3\. Verbal Component**  
(Brigid/Thancred. Bri's lost her voice, her brothers are... themselves about it.)

**4. Howl**  
(Gen. Brigid in Falcon's Nest after the Bloody Banquet and what people politely ignore.)

**5\. Time in Our Hands**  
(Light Brigid/Thancred. Brigid's mother impresses upon Brigid how important it is to hand down things. Featuring the author's thoughts on certain elements of the Void Arc raid.)

**6\. Then and Now**  
(Gen. Arthur first joining the Arcanists' Guild, and then returning after becoming a Warrior of Light.)

**7\. A Softer Affection**  
(Llewellyn/Sammy. Pure fluff.)

**8\. Retainer of Light  
** (Gen. William becomes Bri's retainer)

**9\. Treasure Hunt**  
(Araki/Arthur/Matsu. The trio gets caught in a storm during a treasure hunt gone wrong.)

**10\. Different, Not Dense**  
(Light Araki/Arthur/Matsu. Araki's mind doesn't work quite to standard, but that's alright.)

**11\. Family Pain**  
(Light Llewellyn/Sammy, light Araki/Arthur/Matsu. Brigid suggests finding their father. It goes... poorly. Warnings for parental death, parental abandonment, alcoholism, rage.)

**12\. Heat + Food = Cooking**  
(Gen. The myriad reasons you really shouldn't let anyone in this family cook.)

**13\. Flattery Gets You Nowhere**  
(Pre-Brigid/Thancred. Bri's really very tired of empty flattery.)

**14\. Academic Stress**  
(Araki/Arthur/Matsu. It's finals day at the Arcanists' Guild. Arthur is nervous as hell.)

**15\. Applied SCIENCE!**  
(Gen. Arthur helps a fellow student with a paper.)

**16\. A Romantic Getaway**  
(Brigid/Thancred. Bri and Thancred get away after the Praetorium.)

**17\. Love and Eternal Bonding**  
(All the ships and one sided William/Yugiri. The party's thoughts on Eternal Bonding, positive and negative.)

**18\. Misbehaving Carbuncle**  
(Gen. A frequently lost carbuncle and Arthur makes a friend.)

**19\. Gilded Roses**  
(Light Brigid/Thancred. Brigid selects her next tattoo.)

**20\. A Frozen Heart**  
(Gen. Post 2.55 and Brigid's weak lungs catch up to her.)

**21\. Code Language**  
(Brigid/Thancred. Call back to _Time in Our Hands_ , a discussion while killing Garleans. Warning for violence.)

**22\. Reminder to Eat**  
(Araki/Arthur/Matsu. Arthur is very bad about surfacing from research binges to eat.)

**23\. Sleep is Nice**  
(All of the ships. This family is really very bad at remembering to sleep.)

**24\. Charity**  
(Gen. Matsu prepares supplies for a La Noscean charity.)

**25\. Muted Colors**  
(Gen. Brigid is very bothered by yarn colors.)

**26\. Roses on My Table**  
(Brigid/Thancred. Brigid always did prefer yellow roses.)

**27. Night of the Living Pudding**  
(Araki/Arthur/Matsu. Call back to _Food + Heat = Cooking_ , Arthur demonstrates exactly why you do not let him cook.)

**28\. Casual Affair**  
(Brigid/Thancred. It was supposed to be a fling. Explicit sex.)

**29\. The Echoless**  
(Gen. William is the only O'Donnell without the Echo.)

**30\. Sisters**  
(Gen. Confessions while braiding each other's hair.)

**31: Worries Unburdened**  
(Brigid/Thancred. Even as life becomes harder, handling it has become so much easier.)


	2. Burden of Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #1: Submerged  
> Warnings for: Parental death, parental abandonment, alcoholism.

It was overwhelming.

A breath, a blink, a heartbeat, and suddenly she was the one in charge of the house. Suddenly she was the one managing three younger brothers and their father. Of course Llewellyn would help, he was the eldest, but she was the eldest _girl_ , the _only_ girl, it was her that the burden was placed on the most.

She couldn’t breathe.

The gil didn’t dry up instantly. Da held it together for nearly six moons before she noticed the empty bottles. The empty cups, drying and sticky with the remnants of drink. But they were all mourning, of course Da would eventually start to break from having to hold his sorrow back from his children, needing to be the strong one like she did. Drink was a natural way to cope, they were La Noscean after all.

Then he stopped looking at her. He didn’t look at Arthur much either, and when he did it was never in the eye. They both knew why: Brigid looked exactly like their mother, and Arthur was the one to inherit her eyes. But they pushed through, all of them did. They had to, because there was no other option. That was when the gil started shrinking, when Da would disappear for bells, then days, then sennights at a time. Llewellyn left, to find his path in Gridania, with the healers, as he was always meant to do. He sent back what he could, but it wasn’t enough.

It was dark and cold.

They all did what they could, anything that they could, to make the gil stretch, to make Brigid’s burden less. Arthur quickly set aside his hopes of joining the Arcanists’ Guild to teach Connor his letters and numbers, the two of them becoming close in the process. Will worked their meager farm, taking what little they could spare (when they had it) to market. All of that leaving Brigid to the weaving, the knitting, the cooking. Minding the gil. At night she clung to Will, letting her tears run even as she was ashamed to show such weakness to her younger twin. But who else could she show it to? Who else but the one who had always been at her side, before they knew the world? No one else but her Li Li.

_She couldn’t breathe._

They all knew that it was a precarious balancing act: Keep the house running, keep everyone fed, keep everyone clothed, keep Brigid healthy. If any of that fell out of balance, if Brigid fell afoul of her childhood illnesses again, there would be no hope for any of them. Brigid felt the strain the most out of all of them. One false move and her lungs would betray her, betray them. She could feel it pressing down on her, ironically risking the very thing she was trying so hard to avoid. It was too much for so little. She had to find the way out, find the way to the surface, find the way to save her brothers.

She could see the light, dancing on the surface.

The Tall Mast. The Gilded Rose. She was old enough now (or nearly so, just a couple more moons), she enjoyed the act, it would bring _so much_ gil. Arthur could go to the Guild, Connor would be able to do _anything_ he wanted some day. Llewellyn and Will wouldn’t like it, their mother would never have wanted it for her. But she wasn’t here anymore, was she? And neither was Da, not in moons now, still wandering, still sending home debt after debt. So he didn’t get a say.

She would happily be a courtesan, a _whore_ , if it meant her family would have stable income again. If it meant getting out from under the oppressive ocean of worries they had. It would be okay.

She would _make it_ be okay, as she swam to the surface.


	3. Verbal Component

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2: Silenced

“Nothing at all?” Llewellyn asked, back of his hand on Brigid’s forehead.

She shook her head, wordless.

“Sore?” he asked, hands moving to feel the back of her neck, going up to lightly feel her ears. She nodded weakly, leaning into his touch. It was always a gentle one, soft and warm. “Tilt,” he murmured, and she obeyed, tilting her chin up and back and letting him examine her neck. She knew what he was looking for, swollen lumps that shouldn’t be there, and she swallowed thickly as his fingers dug in. She hated that part, but he would always make up for it.

“Guid thing ye’re nay much fer castin’ lately,” Will said with a grin and a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “Nay havin’ tae talk tae toss ‘round knives, an’ ye cannae be usin’ yer hands if ye’re holdin’ tha’ staff.”

“You mean her spells have no somatic components,” Arthur grumbled, turning the page in one of his books as Matsu idly ran his fingers through his hair. Will huffed, waving him away.

“Nay loch all ay us whur havin’ yer fancy schoolin’,” he grumbled, and Arthur instantly puffed up, clearly intent on correcting Will on whatever it was he said wrong, but one glance from Llewellyn was enough to make him huff instead and go back to his book.

“No fever,” he murmured to himself, and the collective energy in the room instantly relaxed. It was always a fear, that Brigid would fall ill at the worst possible time, and quite often when she fell she _fell_ , quite literally, and would be down for a sennight at best. None of them were sure if they had a sennight to spare.

“So she’s simply lost her voice?” Sammy pipped up, snuggling closer to her. Llewellyn frowned in thought, quiet for a moment, before nodding.

“Silence spell?” Arthur asked, head coming up in confusion.

Brigid shook her head, lightly tapping her throat. She mouthed ‘sore’ as she did.

“She’s right,” Llewellyn agreed. “Silence spells don’t cause pain. The victim simply cannot speak.”

The group went just as quiet after that, brows furrowed in thought.

“He’s nay tha’ big is he?” William asked finally, making his sister go bright red. “Or is he bein’ tha’ rough?”

“I _beg_ your pardon?!” sputtered Thancred, finally speaking after having escorted Brigid in and explained the situation before fading into the background. “I’ll have you know I would do no such thing!”

Brigid was nodding furiously and William laughed, deep and bright. She leaned over and smacked his chest, not enough to cause any pain but enough to produce a satisfying “thwak” sound. “Aye, Ah ken, Ah’m a horrible brither,” he said fondly, still laughing.

“Indeed,” Thancred grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away, though a hint of pink graced his cheeks. Brigid smiled and laughed silently, eyes twinkling.

Llewellyn, meanwhile, stoically ignored the whole matter. He had gotten _very_ good at ignoring that his sister was a grown woman in certain contexts over the years. Unless she came to him on a sexual matter it was absolutely none of his business. “It is likely she simply needs to rest her voice.” He lifted his hand to point his finger, and Brigid looked at it, going cross-eyed. “No speaking,” he ordered, “for at least the next two days. Let me know if anything changes.”

Brigid nodded, drawing an X over her chest and smiling at him.

“And make sure she listens,” he added to Thancred, pulling a grin to the other man’s lips while Brigid promptly looked offended at the very idea that he would need to. “Keep the drink away from her as well, it aggravates it.” Brigid looked like she would whine if she could, and Thancred nodded.

“Of course.”

Brigid pouted, tapping at her throat again. “No, little flame,” Llewellyn murmured, petting her hair. “This is something I shouldn’t speed along. Too delicate.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and she nodded dejectedly. “Now, let’s have Thancred tuck you into bed. Keep that fever away.” With that he passed his sister over to her lover, smiling softly.

“With pleasure,” Thancred said easily, pushing himself off the wall to take Brigid into his arms as Arthur murmured into his linkpearl to Feli, asking him to bring home some fresh ginger when he returned from visiting Haurchefant. “Come now Spitfire, we’ll see what we can do even without that lovely voice of yours.” She pouted at him as they both walked out the door into the corridor, though it was a much less firm pout as he slid his arm down to settle on her hip.

She tapped at his shoulder and mouthed ‘Thank you’ to him when he looked over.

“You’re _quite_ welcome,” he replied, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “What do you say to a nice warm cup of tea with a little honey and sun lemon in it?” She smacked his shoulder lightly and he laughed. “Forgive me, poor choice of words. What do you _think_ of that?"

Brigid smiled and nodded, even clapping her hands quietly. 

“And then after that,” Thancred started, opening the door to Brigid’s (their) room and moving his hand to the small of her back to encourage her through first. He paused, and Brigid glanced at him as she walked ahead of him, raising her eyebrow. He grinned and tilted his head so he could whisper into her ear. “And then I’ll find a way to make you _squeak_.” 

She went bright red again, and Thancred chuckled at how wide her eyes went, which earned him another light bat at his chest and shoulders. “Aye, aye, I deserved that,” he said fondly. “Into bed now.” 

She pouted at him but did as told, easily sinking into the pillows and watching him busy himself with the small hotplate (really just a sheet of iron on top of bricks with a fire crystal between them, but it worked) she kept in her bedroom explicitly for tea. Perhaps being robbed of her voice wasn’t quite such a bad thing, at least not right now. 

But oh, she would get Thancred and William both back for their teasing, yes she would. 


	4. Howl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Adytum (the innermost sanctuary in an ancient temple open only to priests)

It was part of Artoirel’s apology for how he’d treated them when they’d arrived in Ishgard in those early days. A small room in Falcon’s Nest, out of sight of the majority of the settlement’s residents. It was barely large enough to hold a fireplace, a bed, and a table and chair, but for Brigid it was a sanctuary.

She needed it sometimes, to get away from her family and the business of the world. No others were allowed entry, she had made that abundantly clear the one time Emmanellain had tried to follow her in and he had nearly gotten himself stabbed for his trouble. (As though Brigid needed an excuse to threaten that boy in some way after the disaster that was Camp Cloudtop.) Even William had to ask before he entered, though he was allowed in more often than not.

Brigid always found it strange to refuse him.

It saw most of her anger, most of her tears. It was a temple dedicated to her personal fury and rage and it was promptly anointed as such. When it echoed with her screams all of Falcon’s Nest ignored it and pretended to know nothing of it when questioned by others. Why would one of the Warriors of Light find need to scream in Falcon’s Nest, after all? Certainly not when there were dragons aplenty to slake her rage on, to set aflame and stab until all that remained was ash and charred bones upon bloody ground, wet with melted snow.

Not to say that the room was completely austere. Brigid had managed to find flowers that could brave the new cold of Coerthas and had scattered them around the room, trying to find some life to focus on when her thoughts trailed to darker reaches. Fury at death required the presence of life to ease the come down. Rage at the ugliness of the world needed the reminder that there was still beauty to be loved. The occasional trinket also found a home there, hopefully a temporary one as the ones that stayed too long often found themselves broken against the wall.

This was a temple that would not find relics within.

The hymns were always sad, mournful dirges instead of uplifting reverence. Brigid’s saddest songs would be composed here, the taste of dried up hopes with no dawn or day to be found. Later it would also see lullabies as certain facts made themselves obvious and she forced a smile to her face even as those obvious facts led to more obvious ones. Some songs never found an end as they were choked off by tears, and others found only a short life before being tossed on the sacrificial fire, nothing left to lose.

There was more call to be concerned when the temple was silent but it was known the sole priestess was in residence. When her rage and fury were spent, when her voice was raw from her hymns. When she fought off the demons of her mind, what she could have done to prevent all of it, what she should have seen in front of her face, what she should have grabbed with both hands. When she asked, with a raspy voice, heaven hear her, what the Mother Crystal wanted of her, if she was to leave her wrecked and torn.

The one time she wanted to hear the goddess’s words, Brigid found her begging met with silence, her temple deafening with it.


	5. Time in Our Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #4: Saving Time
> 
> All Irish in this chapter comes from DuoLingo or the _Foclóir Gaelige-Béarla_ (a major Irish-English dictionary) except where otherwise noted.

“What are you, darlin’?” Brigitte asked, washing a faerie apple and setting it aside before reaching for a knife. Her voice had only the faintest hint of a La Noscean accent, still retaining the sounds of her years growing up in the Shroud.

“ _Cailín_ ,” Brigid answered, tongue tripping over the word. Her voice, meanwhile, was thick with the La Noscean accent, taking strongly after her father. She looked bored, standing next to her mother and watching her closely.

“Aye, that’s right,” she murmured, smiling happily. “And your brother is…”

Brigid thought for a long moment, forehead scrunching up and biting her lip. “ _Buachaill_?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Good girl!” Brigitte praised, reaching down to ruffle her hair. “Can ye say it in a sentence then me dear?”

Brigid huffed, scowling as furiously as a six year old possibly could. “ _Is cailín mé…_ ” she started, going slowly and trying very hard to get the words correct, “ _agus is buachaill… sí?_ ” She winced as her mother shook her head.

“ _Is buachaill_ sé, _beag amháin_ ,” she corrected gently. She knelt down to look her daughter in the eyes, stroking hair identical to her own softly. “You did well with the rest! Can you tell me what you were sayin’?”

“I am a girl and he is a boy,” she translated dutifully, looking down at her feet instead of at her mother. Brigitte nodded and stood, returning to her work.

“That’s right!” She hummed softly, impromptu lesson apparently over as she began to slice the apple into sections easy for little hands to eat.

Brigid, however, dropped heavily onto the floor, crossing her arms over her chest. “Mama, ‘tis stupid!” she objected, furious scowl returned. “Nay one’s sayin’ things loch thi’ anyway!”

Brigitte paused, inhaled, and Brigid was certain she was in trouble when her mother knelt down again, this time putting a hand gently under her chin to make her look at her. “And that’s why I’m teachin’ you, _beag amháin_ , little one,” she said softly. “It’s been in me family since we can remember, so I’m teachin’ you as my own mum did.”

Brigid pouted. She didn’t like it! No one else used it so why should she?! “But why?!”

Brigitte sighed softly and sat fully on the floor, pulling her daughter into her lap and running her hand over her back. How was she supposed to explain to someone so young how very old things could be important? How important it was to save them from falling into the depths of time, forever to be forgotten?

“It’s remindin’ us of a time long ago,” she started, putting on her storyteller voice, “when people did talk like that. Our past is important, darlin’ one. The things we can save are like holding that time in our hands, keeping it safe to pass along. To share it with those who come after.” She tickled Brigid’s belly, making her daughter laugh and smile despite herself. “And if you know the words you can learn some of our songs,” she teased, knowing how much Brigid loved her mama’s songs. “You might even be able to write some of your own someday!”

Brigid did look up at her mother when she heard that, eyes shining with excitement. “Really mama?” she asked hopefully. “You’ll be teachin’ me _Mo Ghile Mear_?” She squealed happily when Brigitte nodded and squirmed out of her lap. “‘Tis that?” she asked, pointing up at the knife.

Brigitte stood, much slower than her daughter did, and took the knife back in her hand, passing a slice of apple down to her daughter. “ _Scian._ ”

* * *

Many years later, long after Brigid came to understand how important saving things from ages past was and what her mother was trying to impart to her with their family language, she was curled up with Thancred, humming softly.

“ _Is fada mo shúile ort, tusa mo mhian,_ ” she murmured, more to herself than to him. She practically purred as she felt Thancred’s hand settle on her head, fingers threading into her hair.

“I fear I’m not familiar with that language,” he murmured quietly, preserving the bubble of silence that had fallen upon them.

She shrugged softly with a shoulder. “Mum was sayin’ ‘twas a family language, nay any of us knowin’ where ‘twas comin’ from. But she was teachin’ all of us it, sayin’ ‘twas a wee piece of time we were savin’ for those comin’ after.” Or at least she taught Connor what little she could, before… Brigid quickly buried that thought away.

He hummed softly and she could feel him nod. “A fine idea,” he replied, still running his fingers through her hair. “And you said..?”

Brigid laughed and lifted herself so she could look Thancred in the eye, hovering over him. “Oh, you’ll nay be gettin’ it out of me that easily, darlin’. You’ll have to be learnin’ just as I was.” She leaned down, brushing her lips against his. “ _Is bean mé_ ,” she murmured before she kissed him. “ ‘Tis meanin’ ‘I am a woman,” she translated once she pulled back, smirking down at him.

“A beautiful woman,” he corrected, chasing after her lips, swallowing her laugh with a smile.

“ _Álainn_ ,” she supplied with a smile before letting him pull her back down into increasingly passionate kisses.

It was perhaps an unorthodox way of teaching it, but what better way to express _I long for you, you are my desire_ was there than to physically show it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have some Opinions on the Void Arc raid series, mostly being: THE FUCK IS ALL THIS IRISH DOING HERE?! Mhach itself, Cú Chulainn, Forgall, Scáthach, Dun Scáith itself... I was playing through that thing (and wincing at every single mispronunciation because Irish is fucked) with galaxy brain going off the whole time. Just... just look up the Cú Chulainn myth and you will see _so many familiar names_. Also Cait Sith. Can't forget Cait Sith. If it had been just Cait Sith and Cú Chulainn, I wouldn't have thought anything of it. But Forgall and Scáthach too? _Really Square_? 
> 
> So what does that mean here? In my opinion, just like Coerthas is very French inspired in certain ways I think that Mhach is very Irish inspired. So I headcanon that Mhach used an Eorzean version of Irish as a language (please note: This was written prior to Encyclopedia Eorzea 2 and I still don't have a copy of it) and it was passed down through Brigid's mother's side of the family. Bending the lore until it screams for mercy, folks.
> 
> Also the final bit of Irish is a lyric from _A Place Among the Stones_ by Máire Brennan.


	6. Then and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #5: Show of Hands

Arthur looked up… and up… and up… at the towering form of the Arcanist’s Guild, clutching his books (second hand, all of them, but still good) and supplies to his chest.

This was it. He’d made it, after all these years, after all but giving up his hopes: He was going to become an arcanist. His fingers itched, wondering what it would feel like to summon a carbuncle for the first time, to have a _real_ understanding of the aether he could feel floating everywhere, so solid he could almost reach out and touch it.

He stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders under his (also second hand) robes and swallowing his nerves. He was just as worthy as the rest of them to be there after all, he’d worked just as hard, even if he was being accepted into the most beginner classes they had (it wasn’t his fault, it really wasn’t, that his family couldn’t give him the tutoring he’d needed to skip those courses), even if it was painfully obvious that even with the gil his sister had… sent home… he’d needed a hardship scholarship to afford the cost of attendance. That didn’t matter though. He would outdo them all, he promised to himself.

He really would.

With that mental pep talk he marched inside as though he owned the place and had every right to his confidence. He was Arthur Valmond Wesley O’Donnell, and he was going to be an arcanist, no matter what anyone said. And he was going to be an _amazing_ one.

* * *

It had been a _very_ long road since then, he thought to himself as he strode into Mealvaan’s Gate, Blodwen, his Ruby carbuncle, at his side and grimoire thumping reassuringly against his thigh. He was older, _very_ accomplished (even if that upstart Leveilleur kept beating him to new carbuncles), and now the first of a whole new squadron in Ul’dah. That… had come a bit out of nowhere as far as he was concerned though.

Arthur nodded a greeting to Acting Guildmistress Thubyrgeim as he walked on, wondering just how long it would be until they all finally dropped the “acting” part of her title, since she did all the same duties and was _actually around_ unlike a certain other guildmaster he could think of. She smiled in return before going back to speaking with one of the journeyman arcanists, who had a Topaz sitting next to them, perfectly behaved. A sharp contrast to his own, which was nearly as temperamental as most Rubies.

Down, down he went, into the classrooms for the youngest arcanists, those that started as he did: With barely any training, most who were there on hardship, and every single one of them determined to prove themselves. And if they had the same drive he did, the same support he did, each and every one of them would do so.

He paused outside one of the doors, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders under his (no longer second hand, very nearly pristine in fact) robes just as he had done the first day. These children (and young adults, more than like) likely looked up to him, an arcanist to come from nearly nothing and reach the heights of _Warrior of Light_ , and that was a heavy responsibility. He hoped he proved himself worthy of it.

Blodwen headbutted him in the leg when he didn’t move and Arthur laughed softly. “I get the point,” he said fondly. Blodwen huffed at him as he turned the knob and walked into the room, the pre-class chatter of the students swiftly quieting down as he entered.

Professor Wysslona, an aged Roegadyn woman with gray shooting through her otherwise dark green hair — and good Gods, she had been teaching the class when Arthur was young, and looked just as old then too — turned to him and smiled softly. Arthur awkwardly smiled back, flinching when Blodwen jumped up on her desk. Professor Wysslona had a very strict “no carbuncles on her desk” rule and he had to hold back the urge to scramble after her, instead grasping the aether construct around her belly, earning a displeased sound from Blodwen.

“Students, we’re lucky enough to have a guest today,” Professor Wysslona started, voice just as loud and firm as Arthur remembered it, and it seemed to have the same effect as it did then, the class quickly focusing on the front of the room. “Arthur O’Donnell is a graduate and field agent of the Arcanist Guild, studying…” Professor Wysslona continued, listing his non-Warrior of Light duties, and Arthur tuned her out as he looked out over the assembled students. Most of them were bright and earnest looking, though a few had a look about them that spoke of less than optimal upbringings. He made a mental note to get their names from Professor Wysslona before he left, to see what he could do for them.

“—And of course, one of the Warriors of Light,” she finished, and Arthur was glad he tuned back in at that point because it was clearly his cue, and he bowed to all of them, Blodwen doing the same.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” he said as he rose from his bow. “To get the obvious out of the way, yes, we really did go to Ishgard, yes, Alphinaud really is that short, and _no_ , we did not fight a giant green chicken, I do not care what you’ve heard from certain Wandering Minstrels.” He’d warned Llewellyn _he’d warned him_ that would happen. But no, there was no way that could _actually be a thing that could happen could it Llew?!_ Oh but wait, _it bloody well did._

The students laughed though, which Arthur took to be a good thing. “Your first lesson from me: Be _very_ exacting in your notes and formulae, they’re the difference between running chickens out from the Aftcastle being remembered as a singular large green one,” that was the story he was going to stick to for the rest of his life, “or a cuddly aether construct such as a carbuncle and one with a more… seedkin appearance.” A few students laughed in the back of the room and Arthur clucked his tongue. “You laugh now, but wait until someone tries to read one of your arrays and they summon a screaming mandragora instead. It won’t hold form for longer than a few seconds, but your ears will _always_ remember it.” He rubbed his own for emphasis. He smiled to himself when he saw several students quickly ink their quills and set to note taking.

He did so wish someone had warned him that he would need to improve his penmanship _before_ he joined the Guild, it took years for him to stop being called “you know, the mandragora array kid” on a daily basis. He still fully expected to be called it at least once while he was still here, along with the vast number of variants that followed, and was not looking forward to it.

“With that out of the way, any questions?”

Every hand in the room shot up, some supported by their other hand, trying to get his attention.

He’d kept his childhood promise to himself: He was an _amazing_ arcanist, and he was going to help others be just as amazing.


	7. A Softer Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #6: Intimacy (Extra Credit Day)

Llewellyn loved Sammy dearly. That was as much a fact of life as the sun rising and setting, as much as the tides changing. As much as he tended to cliche, Connor would grumble, but sometimes the classics were the only way to even begin to describe his feelings.

Some looked at them oddly of course, an Elezen (as far as anyone knew anyway) and a Lalafell. He preferred that to the ones who accused him of despicable things simply because his beloved was short compared to the other races. Sammy would quite quickly point out he was on the _tall_ end for a Lalafell, how dare they call him short! Llewellyn would smile and take Sammy’s hand in his, keep his beloved from charging after them like the lamb he affectionately called him.

He had been so glad to be able to watch Sammy grow from his skittish beginnings to the confident archer he was now. Sammy would always say Llewellyn had done all the work, but Llewellyn knew he had just been a soft place to land and an unwavering support, that it was Sammy who had found his inner strength on his own. Since that first day in the Archers’ Guild after Sammy’s bowstring had caught the Lalafell’s face Llewellyn had known there was something in Sammy just waiting to find a safe time to reach the surface.

And always, _always_ Llewellyn let Sammy set the pace of all they did. He’d sensed that Sammy had not had much in the way of choices in his past (and oh how _angry_ he had been when he’d learned just how that past had been, his temper being all the more frightening for how rarely it caught) and had been determined to make up for it. If that meant it took near on a moon for Sammy to even take his hand as they walked, then so be it.

He liked that better than all the more… _intense_ forms of affection anyway. Holding hands, kisses and cuddles and long talks staying up until dawn about inconsequential things were far better than anything else they could get up to, as far as he was concerned. The soft things that made one vulnerable and took more trust (not that those other things were _bad_ , he just had no interest in them, and to his delight neither did Sammy) than anything else.

Good morning kisses were his favorite, quick kisses to Sammy’s cheek and laughing as his half-awake lover would try to hide his face in the pillow, grumbling about wanting ten more minutes. Llewellyn would laugh again and stroke Sammy’s hair, bright as dawn’s light, and promise him that yes, he would get those ten minutes. And then they would doze and cuddle for longer than that, until someone banged on the door wanting breakfast. They both would grumble but soon enough slink out of bed to start the day.

He secretly liked carrying Sammy around too, when they needed to move faster than little legs, even swift Lalafell legs, could handle. Sweeping him up into his arms and feeling Sammy cling tightly to him, settling him on his shoulders to avoid getting stepped on in markets, or helping to keep him warm in Ishgard. It satisfied some sort of protective instinct in him, keeping him safe. But he’d never tell him, not wanting to upset him any. It was such a tender subject for so many Lalafells after all.

It was the intimacy of it all that was important to him. The warmth of Sammy nearby, running his fingers through his hair, feeling Sammy’s fingers through his own. He would never be this close to someone, had never been this close to someone, until Sammy. Until his little lamb that had the heart of a ram inside him. And he knew in his heart that he would never be this close to someone else. Not a happy thought at all, but a realistic one in the world they lived in, the roles they had been slotted into.

Feeling Sammy curled up against him at night, his soft breathing against his neck, perfectly relaxed because he was safe, with a family that universally adored him just as much as Llewellyn did, and knowing that he would have this for the rest of his days was his own private heaven.

It was two years after that fateful meeting, the two of them cuddling as they looked up at the stars, when Sammy tilted his head back to look up at Llewellyn. “Lyn?”

“Aye lamb?” he asked, tucking an errant curl behind Sammy’s ear.

“I love you,” he said softly, easily despite it being the very first time Sammy had said it, as though he had said it a million times before now.

Lewellyn smiled and turned Sammy around so he could kiss his forehead and then press his own against Sammy’s. “I love you too,” he replied, voice light and happy.

It was a softer affection, a sweeter thing, and he would trade it for nothing else.


	8. Retainer of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #7: Serendipitous

She could not _wait_ to leave Ul’dah again. Brigid pulled a strip of fabric over her nose and mouth, for all the good it would do at blocking out all the dust and sand. It wasn’t much, but anything to avoid landing in the Quicksand’s inn again, hacking out grit and mud for a week. It had startled her, the difference in La Noscean sand and Thanalan sand, but she knew better now.

She also had not expected the line at the retainer vocate to be _so bloody long_ , by the Twelve. Did _everyone_ decide today was the day they were going to hire one or something? She wondered for a fleeting moment maybe she should come back later, or even on the morrow. It wasn’t as though Minfilia had given her a deadline to hire one, or even required her to hire one at all. But Brigid did rather miss how organized everything used to be, so off she went.

If she was going to be honest, she missed her twin.

William had always kept the house so neat and clean, especially when she’d needed to focus on the latest set of pants for Connor or a new shirt for Arthur (and even during her ill-advised attempt at making him shoes) and it had been such a help while she had been tending to their mother. It was one of the things she’d missed most when she’d left home, and of course she kept things _clean_ , but it was the _organization_ that she was, not to put too fine a point on it, absolutely horrible at. A retainer would have to help with that; there was simply no possible way having one would make things worse after all.

She sighed, forcefully enough that her makeshift mask fluttered. Her feet were starting to hurt too, this is what she got for wearing _shoes_ wasn’t it? Maybe she really should come back later, the line was barely moving anyway…

“Bi Bi?”

She blinked in shock before nearly giving herself a sprained neck as she whipped her head around. Only one single person in the whole star called her that. “Li Li?!”

She found herself suddenly tugged out of line and up into a firm hug, almost too tight but in a very nice way. She ignored how the line quickly ate up the new space, much happier to see her twin, even if it was completely unexpected. Instead of putting her back down he adjusted his hold on her into a princess carry, holding her up as though she weight nothing more than a dodo feather. “Ye made it tae Ul’dah after all?” he asked, a bright smile on his face. She nodded, smiling brightly under her makeshift mask and it made her eyes crinkle and twinkle in delight.

“Oh aye, and so many other things have been happenin’!” She glanced around, looking for some place more out of the way and her eyes widened slightly when she caught sight of a cafe that was almost a literal hole in the wall. Perfect. “I’m havin’ some spare coin, are you wantin’ somethin’ to be eatin’ or drinkin’?” She pointed at it, looking questioningly at William.

He glanced at it, and then smiled brightly. “Aye, ‘tis soundin’ guid.” And with that he started towards it. With Brigid still in his arms.

“Liam, wait! Be puttin’ me down first!”

* * *

After some odd looks from the staff William did finally set her down on her feet so she could recover some semblance of dignity before ordering a cup of tea and a chocolate pastry. She wrinkled her nose at the coffee William ordered (”Black as Arthur’s soul,” he teased, ignoring how Brigid pinched the back of his hand for it) and watched him tear into a honey muffin. She took a sip of her tea, sighing as it soothed the parts of her throat that were already scratched by the sand.

“‘Tis bringin’ you to Ul’dah Li Li?” she asked, glancing over him. “Is Connor finally movin’ on?”

William grinned and took a large bite out of the honey muffin. “Oh aye—”

“Mouth closed, love,” Brigid said mildly, and William scowled, but he quickly downed his food and hurried it along with his coffee.

“ _Aye,_ ” he started again, mock-pouting as Brigid grinned up at him. “He’s joinin’ th’ Gladiators’ Guild.” Brigid dropped her spoon with a clatter, eyes wide in shock. He shrugged. “Lad wus sayin’ he wus wantin’ far ‘way from Limsa as he culd be gettin’.”

“Aye, but… _Gladiators_?” she practically hissed. “He’s beein’ a wee babe still, he cannae—”

“He’s bein’ seventeen, Bi Bi,” William said soothingly, placing a hand over hers. “Same as ye whaur when ye whaur leavin’.”

“Aye but I wasnae joinin’ the _Gladiators_!”

William sighed. “Aye, but he wus. An’ Ah was thinkin’, well, nay much holdin’ me back in La Noscea, save Art in th’ Arcanists’ now, might as well be followin’ th’ lad.” He spread his arms and shrugged. “Sae here Ah am, lookin’ fer new work.”

Brigid sighed, waving for a server. “Can I be gettin’ some whiskey and a blood currant tart, please?” she asked, smiling when the server nodded and went off to fill her order. “Any thoughts love?” she asked, picking apart her pastry and eating the chocolaty bits first.

William glanced out the window, eyes scanning the streets. “Ah was thinkin’ either joinin’ up wi’ th’ Flames or takin’ a retainer job. Wuldnae be makin’ tae bad a quartermaster ‘ventually.” He propped his chin up with his hand. “Nay much water here,” he murmured.

The server returned with a glass of whiskey and a large serving of blood currant tart, and Brigid smiled again in thanks before tipping the glass into her tea and digging into her tart. “I’m lookin’ for a retainer, now that you’re mentionin’ it,” she said casually, but her lips quirked up in a smirk as William looked at her, eyes wide. “Well why else would I be standin’ in that line from the sixth hell if I wasnae lookin’ to be hirin’ a retainer, darlin’?” she asked, a laugh in her voice.

William stared at her for a long moment before laughing as well. “Well then ‘tis a lucky moment, me findin’ ye, aye? Prol’ly wuldnae e’en be needin’ tae gae through th’ retainer vocate…”

Brigid smirked, taking a sip of her tea, enjoying the burn of the whiskey down her throat. “Then I could be havin’ three retainers for the price of two.” She laughed at the utterly offended look on his face. “I might be needin’ all that extra space for my craftin’, Li Li!”

“Ah’d be organizin’ yer things sae well ye’d be findin’ space where nay any was bein’ tae be startin’ wi’, ye ken tha’!”

“Oh aye?” she asked, wiping a bit of currant juice from the corner of her mouth. “Wantin’ to be provin’ that, me brother?”

William looked her square in the eyes, and holding her gaze he unblinkingly picked up her teacup and knocked back half of it, not even registering the alcohol in it. “Jes’ be watchin’ me, darlin’ sister.”

The two of them slowly smirked at each other, eyes clearly saying _“Challenge accepted.”_


	9. Treasure Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #8: Crag

“Remind me why I love you again?” Arthur groused, letting Líle, his Emerald carbuncle, curl up on his lap.

Araki hid his face in his hands, ignoring for now how Blodwen, Arthur’s Ruby, was trying to nose them away. “I didn’t _mean_ for us to get lost, okay?” he grumbled.

Matsu sighed, scritching Niamh’s ears as the Topaz nestled beside him. “Of course you didn’t,” he comforted his brother, reaching behind Arthur to clasp his hand on a shoulder. “And now there’s naught for us to do but wait it out,” he added, looking out at the landscape.

The rain was lashing down, sometimes even appearing to be sideways, as the wind blew harshly. They’d scrambled to find some kind of shelter, but the best they could do was a rocky crag jutting out from the rest of the ground. It was better than nothing, and in truth it did shield them from the rain fairly well.

Arthur shook his head vigorously, like a dog trying to rid itself of water. He ignored Araki’s sputtering at the water that was flung his way. “Where’s our packs?” he asked, standing and trying to ignore the way his boots squelched with water. They had well and truly been caught in the downpour and he was trying _very_ hard to not be too angry at Araki about it.

“Threw them in the corner,” Araki replied, pointing over his shoulder. Arthur sighed and walked on, letting out a breath when he found them. “Not much to burn in there though,” he warned, letting Blodwen drape herself across his chest.

“Between what we have and the carbuncles it’ll be enough,” Arthur sighed, realizing he would probably have to sacrifice some of the branches he’d been collecting for leves for a fire. Well, needs must as they say. “I’m going to need Blodwen to get it going.”

“But she’s warm!” Araki mock-protested, laughing when Arthur walked by and dropped a mostly dry blanket over his head.

“You can be cold for a few moments Aki,” he said fondly, deciding he was too tired to be mad. It really hadn’t been his fault anyway. He handed Matsu a blanket as well and earned himself a kiss to his cheek in the process. He wrapped a third blanket around him and started building a fire with the twigs and branches he had on hand. “Blodwen, come,” he said softly, and the little ruby carbuncle trotted over, both she and Arthur ignoring the disappointed noise coming from Araki. A quiet order from Arthur later and they had a crackling fire, casting light and shadow on the walls of the almost-cave. Dusting his hands off he turned to find Araki and Matsu had cuddled up together, carbuncles spread out over them.

“It was warmer like this,” Matsu said quietly, smirking over at Arthur.

“I’m sure it was,” Arthur replied with a smile. With that he squirmed in between them, sighing softly when he settled his head on Araki’s shoulder. “Much better,” he murmured, the carbuncles rearranging themselves like an additional blanket.

“I really didn’t mean to get us lost Art, I swear,” Araki whispered, wrapping an arm around Arthur.

“I know, it’s alright,” he said softly, lightly patting Araki’s chest. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“More the person who sold us the map’s fault,” Matsu added, pulling out a rather sodden sheet of leather. “Might as well have not drawn anything for all the information we have.”

“Mm, if we can’t find the treasure it’ll be a fine scrap to practice leatherworking with at least,” Arthur murmured, and Araki’s head perked up a bit, blue limbal rings on light blue eyes twinkling with happiness. Matsu nodded and refolded the map, placing it between himself and Líle, deciding that the Emerald’s warmth was much less a risk than Blodwen’s. Arthur yawned and curled up tighter in between his Auri lovers.

Matsu smiled and scooted closer to Arthur, and Araki was doing the same on his other side. “We’ll sleep,” he said softly, stroking Arthur’s hair. “It’s late as it is.” Arthur made a noise that sounded close enough to “aye” that Matsu accepted it as such. He kissed Arthur’s temple. “Sleep well, love.”

Both Auri smiled when Arthur sleepily sought out one of their hands, tangling their fingers together. “Love you,” he murmured sleepily.

Araki laughed softly. “Even when you don’t know why,” he replied, kissing the crown of his head.

It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, their little crag shelter, but it would do until the rain passed.


	10. Different, Not Dense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #9: Dense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have done my best to accurately portray ADHD (I had someone dx'd with it look over it for me and she gave her stamp of approval) and the insecurity that can sometimes go with it, especially in a world that doesn't have a concept for that. If there is something wrong here, please let me know so I can address it.

Araki was not a stupid man. Certainly he wasn’t as smart as his twin brother (though he would never admit to it) and certainly not as smart as Arthur, who was an absolute genius as far as he was concerned. But he absolutely was not stupid. He simply wasn’t very bright. And that was _okay_ , it really was! He wasn’t overly interested in things that needed more smarts than he had, and for most people, as long as he had enough smarts to swing his axe and hit the enemy, that was all they needed from him.

Okay, so it would look like he wasn’t very good at following things, and sometimes that was true. A lot of what people said would go over his head, or there would just be _so much_ going on that he couldn’t keep track of it all. Didn’t that happen to other people though? It was so hard to follow a single conversation while the rest of the party was talking, sometimes he lost the conversation completely and then sounded dumb when he came back to it too late. Matsu knew though, that he needed quiet when important things were being told, so he tried to repeat it once things had settled. Arthur eventually noticed too.

And he was excitable! And flighty! Like a hummingbird, you know? All these pretty colors and interesting things and _they’re fucking cool guys_! So he was a little scatterbrained, but there was just so much to think about and do, and you couldn’t get bogged down in everything going on, you know? Gotta think about other things to keep you going and not about all the horrible stuff going on.

…Right, he wasn’t very good at doing things in a timely or the most efficient manner, but he got them done eventually, right? And he could do the _really_ important stuff on time… most of the time… so it was okay! And the group had adjusted and he had adjusted for them. They found ways to account for his… being him, and he had worked on getting his “him-ness” under better control. And he was working really hard on it too. He was writing things down so he didn’t forget them, and he tried very hard to focus on one person (even though it was still really hard) and he even bought one of those mammet things to help keep him on specific tasks! He was doing his best, honest!

But to most people he just looked stupid. Idiotic. Dense. Even Arthur thought that at first, and it stung so much. Of course Arthur thought he was an idiot, Arthur was brilliant, graduating out of both Aetherophysics and Aetherochemistry at the Arcanists’ Guild, and he could do so many things competently. All Araki did was swing around a giant hunk of metal on a stick and take hits for the others. What could someone as bright as Arthur see in someone like him?

Araki tried not to question it, don’t look a gift chocobo in the beak after all, just went along for the ride, however long it would last. And it’d been a damn good ride so far, full of adventures and fighting back to back, playing with carbuncles even if Arthur said he shouldn’t (but Arthur never stopped him, and smiled even as he said Araki should stop so he knew it was okay), and. Well, things that made him blush if he thought about them when he should be doing something else.

The best times though were nights at the campfire when Arthur was working out theorems and things like that that Araki didn’t have a hope of understanding but it was fun to watch his boyfriend work anyway.

Sometimes Arthur would look up, the glow from the enchanted inks he worked with reflecting on his face, mid-sentence of explaining something horribly complicated, and frown. “Forgive me, this is complicated for you, isn’t it?”

“Art, I know I’m not smart but—”

Arthur reached out and took one of Araki’s hands in both of his, frowning fiercely. “You’re highly intelligent, Araki,” he said firmly. “Your head might not turn in this direction, but don’t _ever_ think you aren’t smart.”

Araki smiled and put his other hand on top of Arthur’s. “But not as smart as you,” he said softly. “And that’s okay. Besides, I like hearing you talk, even if I can’t catch all of it.” He lifted their joined hands and lightly kissed Arthur’s knuckles. “But maybe you can explain it like I’m a new student?” he asked, a laugh in his voice.

Arthur laughed in return, and oh how Araki loved seeing those eyes twinkle. “Explain as though you’re a year one student. I can do that.”

Nah, Araki wasn’t all that smart, but he figured he was smart in the ways that counted and he was getting better about the things he was bad at. Those things didn’t make him stupid, just different, and that was okay.


	11. Family Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #10: Coward
> 
> Warnings for: Parental death/abandonment, alcoholism, rage. This is a heavy one folks.

“Maybe we should start lookin’ for Da.”

It had been such a simple statement, Brigid thought. A thought that was tossed out casually as she swirled the whiskey in her glass. A melancholy thought, to be true, but nothing more.

She did _not_ expect the roar of outrage that came from her younger brothers.

“Why would you _even_ —?!”

“How could you _think_ that?!”

“Ah’m nay wantin’ tae _e’er_ see him ‘gain!”

She blinked, eyes wide and body frozen for a long moment before she slowly lowered her glass. The others watched, utterly confused at the sudden burst from William, Arthur, and Connor. William and Connor were red faced and angry, with Connor’s face twisted in a sneer. Arthur looked like he was about to collapse in on himself, shoulders haunched around his head and back curved, like he was trying to hide. Llewellyn remained quiet, holding Sammy close and rubbing the Lalafell’s back soothingly. Poor darling had been as startled as Bri was. She swallowed and flicked her tongue over her lips nervously. “‘Cause he’s _Da_ , darlin’s.”

“Aye, ‘twas matterin’ nay a Twelvesdamned _shite_ tae him!” William spat, stealing Brigid’s drink and knocking the glass back before slamming it down onto the table. The glass clicked violently but it didn’t crack. “He culdnae e’en _look_ ay ye, Bri!”

“Or me,” Arthur added sullenly, and Matsu slid his hand under the table, taking Arthur’s hand and squeezing it gently. His hand squeezed back, hesitantly.

She sat back in her hair, eyes still wide with the shock. She looked around, taking in the rage on William’s face, the anguish on Arthur’s, and the sheer _fury_ on Connor’s. She tried again, “He should be knowin’—”

“That we’re Warriors of Light?!” Connor ground out, half-standing from his chair, slamming his hands flat on the table. Brigid held back a flinch at the noise. “That we’re _useful_ to him now? No, Brigid. Not after everything he did. Not after everything he _didn’t_ do.”

“He’s probably dead anyway,” Arthur said as Araki slid closer to him, obviously wanting to pull Arthur into his lap but knowing it was probably better to not move him at the moment, instead taking Arthur’s free hand in his own. “He’s been gone for years. He would have sought us out, or drunkenly announced himself as the father of the Warriors of Light.” William grunted an agreement, pouring the whiskey again.

“But he might nay be dead!” Brigid objected, eyes starting to rim with tears. It was clear from the hitch in her voice she knew otherwise, but some part of her still hoped. Her voice was tight, almost sounding like the thirteen year old girl she had been. “I miss him.”

“ _Miss him?!_ ” Connor snarled, fully standing now, almost knocking his chair back with how quickly he rose. “We lost him when I was _four_ , Brigid! You just didn’t know it then! And all because Mum was dead? Fuck him!” He slammed a fist onto the table, making Arthur and Sammy both flinch. “We were still here! We still needed him!”

“He couldn’t look at either of us, Brigid,” Arthur said quietly, and both Auri twins sighed and wrapped an arm each around him. He leaned slightly against Araki, who raised his hand to lightly stroke Arthur’s hair.

“Oh he _could_ , he just _wouldn’t_ ,” Connor spat, stealing the glass from William and copying his older brother. However instead of slamming it down onto the table he threw it across the room, smiling sharply at the sound of glass breaking against the wall. He ignored the glares coming from Llewellyn and William for it. “All because his children _dared_ to look so much like the wife he lost! Even the son that looks the most like him!” He flung out his arm to point at Arthur, who was doing his stoic best to ignore it. “Again, _fuck. Him._ I’m with Will, I _never_ want to see him again.”

Brigid stared at him, refusing to blink, refusing to let the tears sitting heavy in her eyes fall. No, she couldn’t cry in front of Connor. Not the baby. Not the one that needed her to be strong the most. Not the one she had obviously failed to be strong enough for, even as the realization broke her heart. “Connor…”

“Don’t, Brigid,” Arthur interrupted. “Please, don’t. All he ever did was make sure we couldn’t afford food because he needed his drink more. He’s why you had to leave.” His voice was flat and his eyes stared through the table, unwilling to look up and face anyone, not even Matsu and Araki. The twins sighed and Matsu joined Araki in stroking Arthur’s hair, rubbing a shoulder soothingly sometimes as well.

“And you shouldn’t have needed to!” Connor’s voice nearly shook the room in his rage, a tinge of red starting to cross his vision. “He should have been there! He was the parent, not you! Not Llewellyn or William! Hereward O’Donnell was no father to me, and I _will not_ look for a dead man.” He reached for the whiskey bottle but William held it over Connor’s head, shaking his own. Instead Connor growled, slammed his fist on the table again, and stormed away, all but slamming the door in his wake.

William sighed and lowered the bottle back to the table. He turned to Brigid, shaking his head. “Da wus a coward, Bi Bi,” he said softly, anger and rage drained from his voice, shoulders slumped in weariness. “Ye ken tha’, near better than th’ rest ay us.”

She nodded, tilting her head back slightly as she blinked, scowling as a tear finally ran down her face. She hated crying in public so much, and even worse to cry in front of those she needed to be strong for. It was a weakness she couldn’t afford. “Be checkin’ on Connor?” she asked softly, and William placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“‘Course.” He patted her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile before following Connor out, closing the door quietly.

They sat there a long moment, Brigid, Llewellyn, and Sammy on one side, Arthur, Araki, and Matsu on the other, and they were all silently glad that Feli was with Haurchefant again. The Miqo’te never handled yelling like this very well. Brigid took a shuddering breath, staring down at her fingers as she twisted them together. “Brigid?” She looked up, locking eyes with Arthur for a moment before he looked away. “If you do find him, let me know. I’d like to force him to look me in the eye just once.” She nodded, lowering her eyes again. He sighed. “My head is killing me,” he grumbled, tugging at Matsu’s hand.

Matsu nodded. “We all need sleep. Tempers will be less frayed in the morning.” Araki nodded in agreement and moved to help Arthur stand, holding him close as the Hyur leaned against him.

Good nights were murmured as the three of them filed out the door, leaving the other three behind. Brigid continued to look down at her hands but not actually seeing them for a long moment. She wished she had her knitting, something she could busy her hands with and let her mind go blank, forget the whole event had happened.

“Bri?” She blinked and suddenly Sammy was sitting in her lap instead of Llewellyn’s, reaching up to wrap his arms around her. “Are you going to be okay?” His bright blue eyes were worried, brow furrowed in concern.

Must look strong for the young one. Cannot be weak… oh who was she kidding. She wiped a tear away and shook her head. “Nay for a wee bit, darlin’ love,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him in return. They hugged each other tightly and Sammy murmured calming words to her, and she felt a twist of shame in her gut, that the second youngest was comforting her, the second oldest. She didn’t make a sound as Llewellyn lifted them both to settle in his lap, holding both of them close.

“I miss him too,” he whispered, making Brigid choke back a sob. She’d gone and upset Llewellyn too, with her thoughtless comment. If she had known what kind of response it would cause, she never would have even considered thinking it, much less saying it. “I wish I could ask him _why_.”

“I do too,” she breathed, burying her face into his shoulder. She clenched a fist, wishing she had a pillow to beat or a Garlean to stab and set aflame. Something she could take out all this emotion and energy out on. “Bloody _coward_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has gained almost 500 words in the editing process, which was unexpected but I hope helps the piece.


	12. Heat + Food = Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #11: Cooking (Extra Credit Day)
> 
> Title slightly mangled from the subtitle of Alton Brown's cookbook _I'm Just Here for the Food_.

It was not advisable to let an O’Donnell cook. It was not as though they were _incapable_ of doing so, but there were certain… quirks… to each of the siblings that made things a touch difficult and made having Matsu, Feli, and Sammy around a life saver.

Llewellyn was likely the second best cook in the family, provided you kept him to the things he knew he could do well: Sandwiches and soups. But if he was entrusted with, say, a roast? Llewellyn had the unfortunate habit of getting distracted and would lose complete track of time and “well done” would be the best result that could be hoped for. Araki would happily eat it, however. As would the others, because Llewellyn had the most heart-rending sad expression on his face every time he burned (or nearly) something and no one could stand to see him upset. “Just scrape off the char, it’s fine!” Araki once said, and he hadn’t been wrong.

William tried, he honestly did. It had been on him to keep himself and his younger brothers fed when Brigid left, after all, and clearly he had succeeded often enough that they remained _alive_ over the years, but his food was not at all what one would call delicious. Or even palatable some days. Brigid had tried, but there was only so much one could do when one’s brother wanted to cook a sea wasp, after all. If nothing else, William could pull together things others wouldn’t expect and stretch them out as far as possible, and he was a fine hand with root vegetables and squashes.

Connor had learned to weaponize his eyes and didn’t need to cook, he just looked sadly at matronly neighbors and he was suddenly buried in baked goods and casseroles. That was likely the true story of how he and his brothers had survived without Brigid around, not that William would admit to it. Brigid had taught him a few things before she had to leave, and he had picked up a few things just from watching her as well, and he was arguably one of the better cooks in the family. Provided heat wasn’t needed in the process, which left raw vegetables, fruits, and other cold meals as his lone specialties. If he had a second person nearby to keep him on task, he could handle warm meals easier. Even Araki, as scatterbrained as the lad could be, had an astonishing sense of time and focus on food that someone else was cooking.

Arthur caused explosions. He was not allowed in the kitchen at all. “It was an unstable fire crystal, anyone could have set it off!” he claimed, red in the face and hair coated in soot. The remnants of pastry dough, sun lemons, melted sugar, and something that looked vaguely like a Slime seemed to indicate otherwise, and Arthur sulked the rest of the day. The second time there was an explosion as he was cooking there was no excuse: The only commonality was Arthur. Even Araki couldn’t finish the remnants of… whatever it was supposed to be; Arthur claimed eft tail soup.

Brigid ended up the cook of the family, though even she came with her own set of problems. Eggs could not be left over-long in her presence, or they would spontaneously crack. Bags of oats would fall out of cabinets and spill (often on Arthur’s head when he was a child), and even if she was not working with flour she would somehow end up with a streak of it in her hair. It was a mystery, but as the majority of what she created looked and tasted good, no one questioned it. Perhaps it was a price she had to pay to the Twelve for being the lone O’Donnell who could competently cook on a consistent basis.

It was still better to let Matsu, Feli, and Sammy do the cooking though. Feli especially, being Bismark trained. It was just easier, faster, involved much less explosions, and resulted in a hot meal more often. It would also be presented beautifully, even if it was something like dodo breast and wild carrots cooked over a campfire. All the O’Donnells tended to toss things on the plate and call it good, though Arthur took more care to keep space between each food.

The group still conceded that Brigid’s Bubble Chocolates were the best, however. Always let the person with the sweet tooth prepare the sweets.


	13. Flattery Gets You Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #12: Accolade

Brigid was used to getting praise for her looks. She had been a pretty young girl, and had grown into a lovely young woman. She had heard it so much that she had become inured to the praise, only to wonder what someone wanted when they tried.

Her hair was like flame! Yes, and her eyes like emeralds, she was aware. She had a mirror after all. Her skin was pale as fresh milk despite being born and raised in La Noscea. Yes, and it was a pain to avoid being sunburned, requiring many straw hats and hoods. She was so thin! Indeed, a life of food insecurity and being sickly tended to lead to that. Her breasts were a gift from Menphina! Oh yes, and she had to haul them around every day.

Honestly, she would just rather people skip to whatever it was they wanted from her rather than waste both their time with flattery that would get neither of them anywhere. Especially when she was working in the brothels and courtesan houses. There wasn’t any call to flatter the woman you’d paid to sleep with you, after all. It was guaranteed to happen.

The difference between the casual, meaningless praise from regular people and the meaningless praise she heard in the brothels and courtesan houses was one simple thing: In the latter, she had to pretend to be taken in and flattered by it, bat her eyelashes and swoon over whatever banal line she had heard hundreds of times before as though it was the first time someone had thought of it. If it was just some random person as she walked down Sapphire Avenue in Ul’dah she could at least roll her eyes and ignore them. It was very rare that she didn’t do just that, though she did sometimes spare a smile for nervous folk who seemed to genuinely want to compliment her. There was no sense in being mean to them, at least to her viewpoint. They had to learn somewhere and it wasn’t a hardship.

Slimy merchants who thought it’d be easier to make a sale by playing to her non-existent vanity, she had absolutely no problem with giving them a piece of her mind. What in Eorzea did the length of her legs have to do with how she needed to buy a pair of earrings?! Several merchants that had made the mistake of trying that tactic with her soon found their fortunes on the downturn, with a well placed whisper in the correct ear all she needed in revenge.

It was just so… _tiresome_ to hear the same tired line day in and day out. It was enough to make a woman question if she really was so pretty as people kept saying.

* * *

_“Ah, you need only look in the mirror if you miss the stars. They fair sparkle in your eyes.”_

It was a line. It was _so obviously_ a line. And still she felt the color rush to her cheeks, wrapped up in a blanket in the Scions’ library. She had never heard a line said with such _sincerity_ , and it touched that part of her that had hardened itself against praise of that sort. She could feel herself melt, and she smiled at Thancred.

Some praise wasn’t so bad, she decided. At least if it was praise from his lips.


	14. Academic Stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #13: Results

Arthur sighed, holding Líle tight against him as he dangled his legs over the edge of the catwalks near Hawker’s Alley. Líle squirmed about in his arms, trying to turn around and nuzzle at his face, but he only tightened his hold on the little aether construct. He tried to ignore the sounds of commerce around him, wincing as footsteps got too close to him. Maybe he should have gone all the way down to Fisherman’s Bottom, they tended to be quieter and maybe Sisipu would take pity on him and hand him a fishing pole. He liked fishing. It was quiet.

Líle shifted again and made tiny squeaks as she flailed her front paws, and even with that warning he still jumped a little as an Au Ra dropped down next to him, long blond hair and light violet limbal rings around dark purple irises — Oh, it was just Matsu, he realized, and he let out a breath, though his chest didn’t feel any less tight.

Matsu reached out to run his fingers through Arthur’s hair, soft smile on his face. “Aetherochem final?” he asked quietly, but his voice carried over the din of the markets. Arthur nodded and squeezed Líle tighter, leaning against Matsu. The other man sighed softly and rubbed his back soothingly. “You’ve naught to worry about,” he said, resting his head on Arthur’s. “Come now, breathe for me beauty,” he murmured, and waited for Arthur to sync his breathing with his, humming softly.

“But what if I got the math wrong on—”

“But what if Araki stripped down in the Admiral’s office and jumped into the harbor?” he interrupted with a smile, which grew bigger when that pulled a shocked laugh from Arthur. Líle finally squirmed free, only to be caught by Matsu. The little Emerald had a horrible habit of getting lost and Matsu had no desire to deal with _that_ too. “There’s that smile,” he said softly. “I have my doubts you could ever do badly on an aetherochem test, Arthur. Even in the mathematics part.” Arthur whined in the back of his throat and Matsu kissed his temple softly.

“I hate tests,” he grumbled softly, reaching out to stroke Líle’s tails and run his fingers through the “fur.”

“I know, love,” Matsu soothed, combing his fingers through Arthur’s hair again. “Have you eaten since this morn?” he asked, completely unsurprised when Arthur had to think about it before shaking his head. Final year self-neglect, of course. Or really full time self-neglect in Arthur’s case. “Araki set up a reservation at the Bismark,” he offered, waiting for Arthur to take a deep breath and collect himself. Matsu stood and offered Arthur a hand, smiling softly when he took it, using Matsu as leverage to stand. Matsu politely ignored how Arthur’s back cracked as he stood.

Arthur leaned against him, and Líle huffed at being carried about. “I’m so tired,” he grumbled, and Matsu made understanding noises as he angled Arthur in the direction of the stairs to the upper decks. With Arthur’s nerves still frayed he decided it would not be the best idea to use the aethernet right now. “I just want to fall asleep, even if that means Blodwen is sitting on my head.”

“I’ll convince her to sit on your back,” Matsu said fondly. “But first, you need to eat, then you can sleep.” Arthur grumbled at him but let Matsu lead him to the Bismark and negotiate him into a seat. He only roused when he suddenly felt arms wrap around him and pick him up in a strong hug. Líle took the opportunity to jump onto Matsu’s shoulder and look offended that anyone thought she would go anywhere else.

“Artie!” Araki cheered, ignoring the glances he got as he did so. “You did amazing!”

“But… but results aren’t back,” Arthur stuttered. “And put me down! You’re causing a scene!”

“I don’t need results to know you did amazing!” Araki said, but he did put him back in his chair, fixing Arthur’s clothes as he did so. He kept hold of one of Arthur’s hands, however, running his thumb over the knuckles. “C’mon, pick something! Don’t worry about the price.”

“We’ve been saving up for today,” Matsu explained as he took his own seat, small smile on his face. “It’s your last final before your thesis.”

“We’re saving up for that too!”

Arthur stared at them, uncomprehending for a moment, before sighing. “You shouldn’t spoil me,” he said softly, though he was smiling. He finally looked at the menu, though he felt as though his brain was starting to put up surrender flags on thoughts more complicated than “food is good.” He pulled off his glasses long enough to rub at his eyes, trying to force his brain back on track long enough to pick out food. The other two waited patiently before Arthur finally settled on a bowl of sun lemon and cieldalaes spinach soup with noodles, something light that wouldn’t overly bother his stomach, and tea.

The Auri twins chattered about random things, trying to distract Arthur from the wait, agonizing as it was. Arthur tried to go along with them, but his mind kept running along all other avenues of thought and nerves. Eventually the twins exchanged glances with each other and nodded, Araki waving down a waitress and settling the bill. Matsu took Arthur’s hand with a faint smile. “We’ll walk to the Anchoryard, perhaps the air will do you good,” he offered.

Arthur shook his head, however. “We should go to the ferry docks, so we’ll be closer to the Guild when the scores come back.”

Matsu sighed, but nodded. There was nothing for it when Arthur got mixed up in academic stress. All he or Araki could do was make sure he ate, had his morning cup of tea, and slept at least seven bells, all preferably in a row. It was a wonder Arthur was able to fend for himself before they came along sometimes, but he would never say that to him. The twins kept him bracketed between them as they walked to the ferry docks, and sat on either side of him as they sat on the edge of the docks, staring into the water. They were silent, growing nervous themselves despite their utter confidence in Arthur. Arthur meanwhile was humming softly and sleepily to himself, bits of songs that the twins knew were usually comforting to him.

Arthur was about to drift off on Araki’s shoulder when he suddenly stiffened, eyes going wide. His linkpearl must have gone off, Matsu guessed. “Scores are in,” he whispered, looking for all the world like he had no idea what to do now. Araki laughed softly and pulled him up as he stood.

“Go! Go get your perfect score! When you come back we’ll go home and you can crash for as long as you want!”

“And we’ll keep Blodwen on your back instead of your head,” Matsu promised.

Arthur looked like he was about to protest, but then quickly stood on his toes to kiss Araki’s cheek and bent down to kiss Matsu’s temple. “I love you both,” he whispered, squeezing their hands before running off. Líle jumped from Matsu’s shoulder and bounded along behind him.

Araki sat back down, lacing his fingers behind his head, and Matsu sighed. “Do you really think he got a perfect score?” he asked softly.

“Hm? ‘Course I do. He’s a genius.” Araki looked over at his brother and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think so?” he asked, and Matsu sighed.

“I think he’s still agonizing over the formula for the proper aetheric density for triggering one of the viruses.”

“Oh that. I think I tuned out around then.” He laughed at Matsu’s halfhearted shove of his shoulder. “Oh like either of us understood any of it enough to help! And besides, it’s him, he’s fine.” Araki waved a hand dismissively. Matsu glared at him for a moment before sighing and propping his chin in his hand.

They both sat silently for awhile after that, their own nerves sinking into their stomachs. It felt like at least a bell later before they saw Arthur approaching them. They sprang up, rushing over to him, each one taking a hand.

“What did they say?” Matsu asked softly, rubbing the back of his hand gently.

“Amazing as always, right?” Araki asked just as softly, smiling at him.

Arthur was quiet a long moment, and both twins began to worry that perhaps the nerves had gotten to him, or that aetheric density question had counted for far more than any of them expected, when he looked up, a weak but bright smile on his face. “Highest score out of the whole year,” he said softly, and they both could feel the rush of relief come off him.

They laughed and Araki wrapped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “Like I told you,” he teased, pulling him close in a half hug.

“And now you get to sleep,” Matsu promised, and he steered them both towards Arthur’s rooms.

Arthur nodded weakly, leaning heavily against him. “Sleep is good.”


	15. Applied SCIENCE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #14: Validation

It wasn’t easy, the Teaching Assistant job he’d picked up to supplement his meager stipend, but Arthur managed. Well, he tried to. He’d all but moved into his office since one of his boyfriends had decided that now was the perfect time to learn… some kind of sport involving a ball, he didn’t even know and if he was going to be perfectly honest he really didn’t care. It was coming up on midterms and he very much needed to focus on the papers that were starting to trickle in.

His fingers were stained in red ink and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had splotches of it all over his face. He knew he was working with second years, but by Thaliak they were making mistakes that would make _applicants_ ashamed. He felt bad for Professor Doeroeya, having to deal with actively _teaching_ them, the grading overflow was bad enough. He sighed and marked another paragraph with errors, then had to resist the urge to just bang his head on his desk when he reached one of the worst differential equations he had come across in years. “Why are you using a linear one when we _explicitly_ said to use a _non_ -linear!” he groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. Even showing their work wouldn’t help this student, and he sighed as he started marking everything wrong.

He held back another groan as there was a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called, sitting up and putting on a mask of serenity and lack of desire to dump every paper into the harbor. His pasted on smile took on an edge of realism when a young Hyur girl tentatively peeked inside. “Miss Saewynn, please, sit down,” he said, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. As she sat he took the moment to blot his ink and set the paper to the side. Frankly he was glad of the excuse to see the back of that paper, and while Saewynn River took some time to grasp concepts, she was at least putting forth clear effort, and that counted for a lot with him.

Saewynn bit her lip and dropped a small stack of paper on his desk, gray eyes looking down at the floor. “Can… can you please look over some of my paper, Mister O’Donnell?” she asked, voice trembling with nerves.

“Of course, I’m happy to.” He took the stack and started to scan it. Ah, biology. Not a course he was grading but since it was Saewynn he was glad to look over it anyway. “What are you having difficulty with?”

“Prokaryote biofilms and the effect of aether on them,” she murmured, picking at a stray thread on her shirt. “Page three.”

Arthur hummed. “Better to cut that, you’ll pull your hem loose,” he murmured as he turned to the correct page. Saewynn jerked her hand away from the thread, tangling her fingers together instead. Poor girl, so nervous all the time. One day she’d grow into her confidence, but that day seemed a bit off still. “You argue that to enable the rapid spread of _Staphylococcus_ in wavekin one must use _wind_ aspected aether as opposed to the more commonly considered _thunder_?” he asked, looking up at her, an eyebrow raised.

Saewynn coughed softly and nodded. “A-aye sir, I think that perhaps thunder, while providing a charge enough to kick-start metabolism in all creatures, in wavekin specifically it has too great a charge, killing most of the _Staphylococcus_ colony. While the remaining amount is sufficient to produce the desired effect, I propose that we could reach the desired response faster if we use the gentler wind aspect.” Arthur blinked at her, surprised at how easily she explained herself. Perhaps that self-confidence growth wasn’t as far away as he suspected. But it seemed that brief moment of confidence was spent as she suddenly looked back down at the ground, a strand of brown hair escaping the braid she had wrangled it into. “I… I’ve tested it on water-based scalekin and seen good results. They’re… they’re on page four.”

Arthur nodded and turned the page, reading over her research. She was right, at least for her scalekin subjects. “Your proposal is sound,” he said, and her head snapped up, as though surprised that he had found something positive to say. “Have you tested this on wavekin themselves?”

Saewynn looked down and shook her head. “Nay, sir. I haven’t had the opportunity.”

“Hmm. Well, as you know, one of the first tenants of science is to perform experiments.” Saewynn nearly flinched, and Arthur felt a faint wave of guilt wash over him. He stood from his chair and pulled a set of keys out of one of the drawers of his desk. “Come, I think Testing Lab 3 on the Farm is still open this time of the evening.”

Saewynn looked up, eyes wide in surprise. “Sir?”

Arthur smiled and held a hand out for her. “Your proposal is sound,” he repeated kindly, “Now we must test it. I’d certainly like to see the results, if nothing else.”

She smiled and collected her paper, jamming it back into her bag. “Aye sir!”

He helped her stand and they walked out the door together. He was always more than happy to help the other students grasp concepts they were having trouble with or were slowly realizing they were actually quite skilled with them, and he would absolutely encourage both of those.

Getting away from papers that seemed determined to do the exact opposite of instructions was simply a bonus.


	16. A Romantic Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #15: Plateau

The wind smelled of salt, and Brigid inhaled deeply. La Noscea was the home of her childhood, and while it did not feel as much like home anymore it still sent a wave of nostalgia through her. It was still a comforting place to come when Gridania felt exceptionally oppressive, a place to feel safe.

She and Thancred had set up a tent on a plateau near Raincatcher Gully, in attempt to avoid the flooding from the rains that frequently assaulted the region. They both had been given time away from the Waking Sands, officially to survey the area, despite it being Y’Shtola’s domain. _Unofficially_ it was to give them both a chance to recover after the events of the Praetorium had wiped them both out. Brigid could think of no better way to spend it but to run away to Vylbrand, as far as they could go to get away from everything without straight up leaving Eorzea.

Goodness though sometimes she wished she could.

The wind whipped through her hair, catching on her skirts and billowing them out behind her. She had missed it during her time in the other city-states, but she hadn’t realized quite so much. The view was breath-taking.

She felt arms wrap around her waist, a chin prop itself on her shoulder. “A beautiful woman, awaiting her lover’s return from the open sea,” Thancred murmured into her ear, and they both laughed softly at his words.

“Why would I be waitin’ when he’s bein’ right here?” she asked, turning around in his embrace and draping her arms on his shoulders. His arms tightened and drew her closer, the both of them meeting in a soft, lingering kiss. “How are you farin’?” she asked after a moment, and he sighed, dropping his forehead to her shoulder.

“Recovering,” he replied, knowing that less than clear honesty would be met with a flat, unbelieving look and more prodding. Just easier to be honest, and it would pull that beautiful smile from her. Which was exactly what he received, and even another kiss.

“‘Tis glad I am to be hearin’ it, recoverin’ is good, even if ‘tis provin’ to be slower than you’re likin’.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, and he made a soft, pleased noise at the feeling of her nails lightly dragging against his scalp.

They remained like that for several long moments, enjoying the feeling of the other in their arms. Brigid hummed softly, the two of them gently swaying with the tune. “Dance with me,” he murmured, and Brigid giggled, letting him take her hands and pull her into a proper dance, slow and smooth.

Brigid sang, quiet and sweet, keeping time for their dance. Sometimes they collided on spins, Brigid’s slightly taller height causing the occasional tangle, and they laughed softly, cares and ills left behind on the mainland. The sun went down behind them, bathing their dance in the colors of sunset, then twilight, and finally starlight.

They stopped soon after the moon came out from behind some clouds, laughing softly and melting into each other, kisses warm and languid, Thancred’s hand gently cupping the back of her head, calluses catching on the strands of her hair. “I found the stars,” he murmured, pulling another giggle from Brigid.

“Aye, they’re shining above us,” she whispered, kissing him again. He chuckled and ran a thumb under her eye before dropping a kiss to the scar that crossed it.

“I mean the ones in your eyes. The ones in the sky could scarce compare.”

Brigid laughed and lightly swatted at his shoulder. “Flatterer,” she murmured, smiling softly. “And yet you’re meanin’ every word arenae you?” He raised one of her hands and kissed the back of it, looking up at her with a smirk.

“Each and every word, my Spitfire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OUTTAKE:
> 
> “We should make camp on that mountain,” Thancred said, pointing at a tower of rock and soil.
> 
> Brigid hummed softly, tilting her head. “‘Tis lookin’ more like a plateau, I’m thinkin’. Bit flat to be a mountain. Bit short too.”
> 
> * * *
> 
> _I had that damn line from Dragonball Z Abridged in my head all bloody day with this prompt._


	17. Love and Eternal Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #16: Bond

_Do you ever think of Bonding?_

Arthur looked over at Matsu, shrugging. “Not overmuch, no. Never saw much point in it, since I don’t anticipate siring children.” He thought for a moment. “Nor adopting. None of us are especially suited to raising children, especially Araki.”

“I would be the best damn father and you know it!” Araki spat, crossing his arms. “You just don’t want the competition.”

“You just proved my point, Aki,” Arthur replied coolly, sipping his tea.

Matsu reached out to scratch behind Blodwen’s ears, the ruby carbuncle quickly thumping a hind foot on the floor. “We have the carbuncles as well, they might as well be our children.”

“About as much trouble as children would be,” Arthur said fondly, lightly stroking Líle’s back, smiling as she lifted a tail to keep his hand in place, purring softly.

“Besides,” Araki draped himself over the arm of the chair he was sitting in, orienting himself upside down, hair brushing the floor. “I don’t think they’d marry the two of us to Artie or him to the two of us. Something about ‘two souls’ and not three.” He paused. “Probably gets awkward with a set of brothers too.”

Arthur and Matsu sighed, nodding and ignoring the crash in the other room, as well as a topaz carbuncle coming in and shredding a thankfully long outdated codex between her teeth.

* * *

Llewellyn laughed softly as he rubbed Sammy’s shoulder with two fingers as the Lalafell cooked dinner. “Do we need to?” he asked quietly, a crooked smile on his face.

“Most people think we are already,” Sammy said on a laugh, adding a pinch of salt to the soup. “So many innkeepers write our names as ‘Llewellyn and Sammy O’Donnell’ as it is.” He stood on his toes to kiss Llewellyn’s cheek even as Llewellyn bent a little to give Sammy a better reach. “I’m not sure I remember my original surname.”

“It suits you,” Llewellyn murmured warmly. “My ram-hearted lamb.”

Sammy’s cheeks went pink and he laughed softly. “After all these years and you still make me blush,” he said softly. “I might as well simply introduce myself as Sammy O’Donnell, it isn’t as though people will check the registry to see if two of the Warriors of Light are truly, legally bonded.”

Llewellyn kissed his forehead, smiling brightly. “We are in our hearts, and that is what matters to the Twelve.”

* * *

“Why?” Connor threw a dart at the dartboard before reaching over for his drink. “What’s the point? It’s not like Llew and Sammy are ever going to, and kids are a shitty reason to get bonded. Bri didn’t, you know. Even when those Ishgardian high house assholes tried to act like it was some affront to the Fury.”

He walked over to a chair and sat down, propping his legs up on the table. “You know the Miqo’te don’t usually either, and they seem to be doing pretty good.” A waiter walked by and Connor winked at him before taking another drink of his beer. “Besides, I know how being Bonded works. You’re happy, if you’re a woman you squeeze out a few kids, and then you take sick and die, and your husband gets drunk off his ass and slowly abandons those kids.” He hefted his tankard in a mocking toast with a tight smile on his lips. “With that as my example, why would I ever want to do that? No, I’ll leave that to everyone else to suffer.”

He paused, rubbing his thumb over his tankard in thought. “I don’t know how people are happy like that anyway.”

* * *

Feli lit a candle in front of his portrait of Haurchefant. “I did once,” he murmured, ears lowered in sorrow. “We would have been happy.”

Haurchefant looked down on him, only the barest twinkle in painted eyes in a face too solemn for a man who had such light in life.

* * *

William lowered his sister’s pack, sighing softly at the mess of crafting materials and random items, as well as a nearly-due Wonderous Tails journal. “Sometimes,” he said as though it was a hard-worn confession. “Mum an’ Da were bein’ happy fer a few years, ‘least. Ah loched tha’ part.” He huffed, looking down into the bag. He really _really_ hoped he wouldn’t stick his hand in a lump of lanolin again, that had not been a pleasant experience. “Dinnae hate th’ whole idea loch Connor daes, since Ah was seein’ more ay th’ happy parts ay bein’ Bonded than he was seein’.”

He started to pull bits of fleece and broken ore out of the bag. “But gettin’ Bonded ‘tis needin’ a lad or lass tae be lovin’, aye? Ah’m rather missin’ tha’ part, ye see.” He paused, going a bit pink. “Yugiri’s bein’ right bonny. Dae ye think she’d be lookin’ me way?” He sighed and shook his head, returning to his work. “Shuldnae be thinkin’ ‘bout tha’, when she’s nay realizin’ Ah’m lookin’ in hers. ‘Sides, Bri’s still needin’ me. Cannae be leavin’ her jes’ for a lad or lass.”

* * *

Brigid laughed softly, hefting the bundled form of her babe into a more comfortable position against her chest in the sling she had fashioned. “Why? Are you one of the folks thinkin’ I should have been findin’ _any_ single lad or lass willin’ to be takin’ me and me wee one here on?” She sighed, leaning back in her seat and the fingers of her free hand drumming softly on the table. “We’re doin’ alright, havin’ me family supportin’ me, me friends. And most folk give up on askin’ such things of one of the Warriors of Light ‘ventually.”

The babe gurgled and Brigid laughed, nodding. “Aye, they were! Nay anyone questionin’ your mum once she’s pullin’ the knives!” she said brightly, brushing her child’s face, hidden behind the blanket, with a finger. “‘Sides, the O’Donnell name’s bein’ too well known now, ‘tis the better name for us to be usin’ still. Even if I was gettin’ Bonded I’d be keepin’ me name.” She laughed again. “Oh the _scandal_ ‘twould be bringin’, a lass keepin’ her name! Bein’ near a shame I willnae be gettin’ Bonded then!”

Then she sighed, looking up at the ceiling a moment. “I was hopin’ to, as most young lasses are hopin’,” she said softly. “Havin’ a pretty dress, a lad or lass to be spendin’ me life with, the room bein’ filled with flowers and me family and friends. But young lasses are growin’ up, and some of us are realizin’ ‘tisnae bein’ for us, as much as we’re hopin’. And some are seein’ the darker side of Bondin’… and ‘tis puttin’ a few of us off.” She shrugged. “‘Sides, I dinnae think Thancred would be wantin’ to anyway.”

She reached out for a cup of tea only for her hand to be caught gently by another, and simply by the calluses she knew exactly who it was. “Thancred darlin’!” she said brightly, happily leaning into a kiss.

“Beloved Spitfire,” he murmured into her mouth, both of them smiling softly at the endearment. He gently lowered her hand and ran his finger over the baby’s nose with a grin. “Forgive me for taking your mother’s attention for the moment,” he said softly to the sleeping child, then kissed Brigid’s cheek before walking away.

Brigid blinked, quite confused at his suddenly appearing and disappearing, before she felt something on her hand. She glanced down, and her eyes widened as she took in a rose gold band with a garnet set in the center, gleaming like a fresh drop of blood, sitting innocently on her ring finger. Suddenly it clicked in her mind and she inhaled sharply, head shooting up to watch him walk away, a hand on his hip like a popinjay. “Thancred!” she called as she scrambled up, making certain that the babe was secured before running off after him.

“Thancred Waters you’ll be explainin’ this proposal when I’m catchin’ up with you!”


	18. Misbehaving Carbuncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #17: Without a Trace

Most carbuncles had some form of personality, even if it was the base one. He knew of one Emerald that was “made of fight” as her summoner put it. He knew of a Topaz that was as much a sloth as some efts were. And rubies… sometimes it was better not to say.

_His_ Emerald, meanwhile…

“Líle!”

His emerald tended to get absolutely lost.

He would chase her through Mealvaan’s Gate, up to the Aftcastle, even to that building out past Fisherman’s Bottom. He once even found her scratching at the door to the lift that went to the Admiral’s office, a very bemused Roegadyn watching her.

When he wasn’t being called “The Mandragora Man,” people were joking about how he needed a harness for her, and sometimes calling her “Without a Trace.” Especially after one considerably impressive romp through the Gate mess hall. He thought he’d never get the smell of Orobon stew out of his jacket. He still wasn’t sure how he managed it.

Either way, Líle the Carbuncle became a very familiar and recognizable critter in Limsa Lominsa, as did Arthur as he chased after her, red faced, through the markets. Of course, that was only when Arthur even had any idea where she had run off _to_. He could turn his back for just a moment, just long enough to ensure he had enough ink for the day for example, and she would disappear, having trotted off at speeds that would put a racing chocobo to shame. At that point he just had to wait for someone to yell about a slightly smaller than average Emerald carbuncle running lose and he would follow after.

(Years later he would _strongly_ empathize with poor Tataru, dealing with her own willful Emerald.)

One day he simply gave up looking for her. It was hot and humid and he just _did not care_ anymore. She would be found, he would collect her, and the irritation would repeat the next day. He might as well just wait, it wasn’t as though she could get _too_ far from him after all. He could wait for her to just ‘pop’ back next to him looking offended at having done so.

Instead he took the day and the opportunity to just rest at Costa del Sol, the wind off the sea cutting through just enough of the humidity to be tolerable. He settled in a beach chair, book in hand, and let the rhythm of the waves wash over him, soothing his temper. The O’Donnell temper was legendary, and he was clear enough when he was in the grips of it that none bothered him beyond placing a fresh drink nearby as he finished the one before. He made a note to tip them all well and speak highly of the service when he did return to Limsa.

Time passed and Arthur was near to falling asleep when he heard the plinking sounds of a harp nearby. He scowled, irritated that his rest had been interrupted, and he glanced over to find a man a little older than him, Hyur, dressed in a red and black shirt, pants, and boots with a pair of what looked to be goggles on his face, holding the offending harp in his hands. “You still need practice,” he grumbled, and returned to his book.

The other man laughed softly, adjusting the string tension before plucking it. “Forgive me, I find myself newly returned to this realm and new to this role.” He looked over to Arthur, smiling. “Have you any advice I could avail myself of?”

Arthur glanced back over, looking at the harp critically. “Loosen your B string, F sharp string, and A sharp string, tighten both your E strings.” The man did so, plucking each one as he did until Arthur nodded. “It’s the salt, it gets into the screws so it seems like it’s tuned properly when it isn’t.”

“Ah, I see! You have my gratitude, my new friend!” Arthur shrugged and attempted to return to his book. “I am thankful I came across the son of Brigitte Desrosiers in my hour of need.”

Arthur started. Blinked. Turned to stare at the other man. “Excuse me?” he asked quietly, confused.

“She was quite well known amongst all who follow the bard’s wandering path,” he said casually, as though he hadn’t said something as ground shattering to Arthur as knowing his mother’s maiden name. “I met her but only once, still I remember her eyes. Quite striking they were.” He offered Arthur his hand with a smile. “I am Shida,” he introduced himself, and Arthur took his hand after a brief pause.

“Arthur _O’Donnell_ ,” Arthur said, pointedly emphasizing his last name.

“So she did Bond,” Shida murmured, releasing Arthur’s hand to pluck at his harp, the sounds strong and true. “And what leads her son to Costa del Sol?”

“A misbehaving carbuncle,” he grumbled, siting back into his chair and running his hand through his hair. “I’ve decided she can wander where she likes, she has an effective range limit and she’ll exceed it eventually.” Shida laughed, and Arthur found it incredibly easy to have a conversation with this strange wandering minstrel. Was this… friendship? He had never been good at such things.

Shida was about to respond when there was a sudden coalescence of aether and an Emerald carbuncle suddenly appeared, mid-leap. She promptly faceplanted onto the floor, making an irritated noise.

“There you are,” Arthur grumbled, putting his book to the side. He took advantage of her momentary disorientation to scruff her, and she very nearly pouted as he lifted her from the ground. “I swear I’m going to create a harness for you next time you disappear like that, Líle,” he lectured her, Líle glaring at him even as her body was limp.

Shida laughed softly and Arthur smiled. “Please look forward to it,” he said to Líle, tapping the red spot on her forehead lightly with a finger.


	19. Gilded Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #18: Marked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N’dhovaka is gratefully borrowed from @dragons-bones.tumblr.com/DT Maxwell here at AO3. Please do read her stories of Synnove and her carbuncles, they're very good.

“How’s this lookin’?” Brigid asked as she held up a drawing for the inspection of the Roegadyn woman sitting next to her. It was of a yellow rose with gilded edges, lying in front of a cresting wave.

Glorious Dawn looked at it and tilted her head, dark purple eyes narrowing at it. “The Rose’s emblem?” she asked, confused. “It’s lovely, but the rose should be red.”

“Aye, but you’re knowin’ I’m nay likin’ red roses Dawn. Yellow ones are bein’ prettier.” She smiled and settled the drawing back on the table. “Maybe I should be addin’ a dagger…” she mused, tapping the end of a quill against the corner of her mouth. “What are you thinkin’?”

“Rather depends on what your plan for it is,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Thinking of splitting off?”

Brigid shook her head and made a quick sketch with the dagger added, looking between the two. “Nay, nay. Wouldnae be dreamin’ of it.” She looked up at Dawn and smiled brightly. “I’m gettin’ it tattooed!”

Dawn blinked at her, thoroughly confused. “The Rose doesn’t brand their workers,” she said slowly. “Why would you want it?”

The Elezen leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms behind her head. “The Gilded Rose was bein’ me goal when I was leavin’ home, and now I’m bein’ here. Thinkin’ I’d be celebratin’ it.” She grinned over at Dawn, tapping the stylized harp visible on her shoulder blade, inked in dark green. “Nay bein’ me first tattoo either, so ‘tisnae as anyone would be objectin’.”

Dawn smiled ruefully and pulled the drawing back over to examine closer. “Pirates,” she murmured fondly.

“Your older sister’s bein’ a legal pirate half the time, you’re nay gettin’ to be talkin’ ‘bout pirates like that,” Brigid teased, dropping her arms back down to the table. “Havin’ any thoughts?”

“Drop the dagger,” Dawn said almost instantly. “It’s too busy with it, and you can always add it in later if you want it anyroad.” She hummed a bit, turning it this way and that. “Where are you getting it?”

“Upper thigh, near me hip. Nay sure which leg yet. Maybe right?”

The Roegadyn glanced over Brigid critically, brushing her light purple hair out of her eyes as she did. “That is the side most of your skirts are slit on,” she murmured. “The right sounds good. It’s a piece that might take a few trips though.”

Brigid sighed and nodded. “Aye, and ‘twill be uncomfortable while ‘tis healin’, ‘memberin’ that from me harp. ‘Least I can be sleepin’ on me back this time.”

Dawn laughed softly, nodding. “And keeps work from being too awkward. You’re sure though? If you ever leave people _will_ ask about it.”

The other woman laughed brightly and leaned over, propping her chin on her interwoven fingers. She smirked at Dawn, eyes twinkling. “Oh aye, I’m rather hopin’ so,” she practically purred. “The very _scandal_ , wouldnae you be sayin’?”

Dawn huffed and reached out to run her fingers through Brigid’s hair, a fond smile on her face. “You’re a madwoman,” she teased, making Brigid laugh again.

“Aye, otherwise what’s the fun in life? Causin’ scandal’s bein’ a wonderful thing.” She gently pushed away Dawn’s hand with a smile. “Are you knowin’ any good artists? Me last one was dyin’ in a ship accident.”

“I’ll see what some of the others say.”

* * *

Brigid glanced down at the directions she had been given, held close to her design, and then back up at the sign she stood near. Seemed to be the right place, and she strode in, skirts swishing around her ankles.

The shop was mostly empty, aside from the employees and a few non-locals gawking over the designs. Normally that would have boded ill to her, but enough of both her fellow employees and several clients had recommended N’dhovaka’s place. Soon enough a Sun Seeker lady, quite clearly a matron, came out from behind a curtain.

Apparently _she_ was N’dhovaka, and she and Brigid chatted about placement and size of the finished piece. “Upper thigh?” she asked, peering closely at Brigid’s figure. “Ye sure?”

Brigid shrugged. “I’m knowin’ I’m bein’ a wee bit of a stick in places, but I’m likin’ it as a place. Still workin’?”

N’dhovaka shrugged, but gestured to the table all the same. “Hike up that skirt, we’ll get started.”

It hurt, but not nearly as much as she expected, and it really did only take two sessions to do properly. Brigid counted herself lucky that she knew enough people with access to potions that her healing time was minimized, and soon enough she was showing off a lovely tattoo in skirts with high slits.

* * *

Years later, almost a whole lifetime really, she laid in a bed, Thancred tracing his fingers over the various tattoos she had collected over her lifetime. The harp on her shoulder blade, the dark red dagger pointing down her spine, the small, dark blue compass rose at the small of her back. She hummed softly, drifting off to sleep as he did, dimly wondering what she should add to the collection next. Mm, maybe something with fire, set on top of one of her burn scars…

Suddenly he stopped, and she cracked open an eye to find that his fingers were hovering over her right thigh, where… oh, yes. She looked up, and their eyes locked, and she realized he _knew_. Of course he knew that symbol, he had grown up in La Noscea just as she had, and The Gilded Rose was exceptionally well known as one of the most high class of courtesan houses. She would have been more surprised if he hadn’t known of it, honestly. He smiled at her, that wonderful smile she loved so much. “A yellow rose?” he asked, fingers resuming their tracing.

She shrugged, never breaking eye contact. “I’m likin’ yellow better,” she replied. Then she closed them, relaxing back into bed. “So dinnae you ever be gettin’ the idea of bringin’ me red ones in your head.”

He chuckled and settled down properly in the bed as well, tugging her over to settle her head on his chest. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

Of course that would never scandalize Thancred, she thought happily, relaxing against him. It would take something far more outrageous to manage that.


	20. A Frozen Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #19: Gelid (Which means "very cold")

Everything was cold.

The air was cold. The ground was cold. The water, where it wasn’t frozen, was _damned_ cold. Even the sunlight was cold. William pulled her closer to him, brushing her hair from her face. Everyone was clustered together in small groups, those in relationships bracketing each other. Connor was on William’s other side and Feli took pity on Alphinaud that Brigid couldn’t find in her to give him.

The Sultana. Wilred. Papalymo. Yda. Y’Shtola, Minfilia, Thancred.

_Thancred_.

All either dead or more than likely dead. The only reason Brigid wasn’t crying anymore was that she no longer had any tears in her at all. She felt hollow, weak. Like she had been scraped out and had nothing left. _Cold_.

She turned and coughed violently into William’s chest, making him tug her closer, trying to share his body heat with his sister. She dimly heard footsteps catching up to them, the snow crunching underfoot, and then something warm draped over her shoulders. She flicked her eye over to find the glowing form of Blodwen around her neck like a Ruby carbuncle scarf. She caught a glimpse of Arthur, face pale and drawn, before he returned to Araki and Matsu, who had the other carbuncles draped around them or pressed against their chest.

She was so very cold. It didn’t matter what anyone did, how many carbuncles she had tossed on her, no matter how many blankets, furs, and warm robes she was buried in. She was cold to the core of herself, and she didn’t foresee warming up.

* * *

Her chest _hurt_. She wasn’t cold anymore. She felt like she was aflame inside, with no relief to be found even when the bedding was thrown off. Her chest felt tight, felt as though drawing breath was too much effort, her body wracking with the force of her coughs.

Llewellyn, Feli, and William all tried to tend to her, tried to find the right concoction of medicine to break her fever, to loosen her chest, to help her breathe again. None of it worked, even when the Dragonhead chirugieon joined them, with her specialized knowledge of ailments of the breathing. There was nothing to be done but hope it would pass, and pass quickly.

Poor Feli was in nearly as bad a shape, his own lungs making painful wheezing sounds, the poor Miqo’te completely unsuited to the climate that had descended upon Coerthas since the Calamity. If Brigid’s mind was capable of grasping the world around her beyond how hot and stuffy even her thin shift was, she would have been concerned about him. At least he had Haurchefant to dote on him and ensure he was recovering.

She gasped for air, drifting in and out of consciousness, the cold of Coerthas and the sheer amount of stress she had been through in the past… by the Twelve, far too many moons. Llewellyn had said something about her systems just giving up, and the longer she was ill the more the others felt that he was right.

She was so _hot_.

* * *

Her fever had broken, and it was far, far too cold. Breathing was still a trial, but the medicines they were forcing down her throat were starting to work, she could sit up long enough to cough until she sicked up from it instead of needing to be settled on her side or front so that she would avoid choking from sicking up while she was prone. She shuddered, unable to warm herself, not able to find the warmth in three layers of quilts, two of furs, and all three of Arthur’s carbuncles on top of that.

But she could sleep. If nothing else she could retreat to the darkness of sleep, even if those last days in Ul’dah constantly flashed behind her eyelids. William must have convinced the others into adding a sleeping potion to her cocktail, as soon the dreams faded away and she was able to sleep uninterrupted. The dark was comforting, even if it meant she couldn’t see the comforting things she needed in this trying time.

William was there, though. She could feel his fingers brushing through her hair, replacing the cloth on her forehead when it dried out. Her precious twin was still there, and as usual disregarded his own health to ensure she would be well. There was much she could suffer so long as he was nearby. Even if it was horrifically cold.

* * *

She sat weakly near the fire, a carbuncle at her feet and a quilt wrapped around her body. She held a mug of warm broth between her hands, the only thing she could keep down as she recovered. She felt so very old. She was not yet thirty, and she felt so very old. It was a cold world, Eorzea, she had grown up knowing just how cold it could be, but she had not expected this level of tragedy and responsibility to fall upon not only herself, but her family and those her family had claimed as part of it as well.

She sipped the broth, hands shaking but holding firm somehow. She felt the warmth in her, but it didn’t touch that block of ice and cold that had taken up residence under her breastbone. She sighed to herself, having started to accept it as part of her life from this moment onward. Better to grow accustomed to it before taking refuge in Ishgard, it would keep the barbs of the nobility from hurting quite so much if she had that precaution already perfected.

The air was cold. The sun was cold. The very ground was cold. She was cold.

Her _heart_ was cold. And so it would remain until she found something to warm herself again.


	21. Code Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #20: Two Birds With One Stone  
> Warning for graphic depiction of violence.

_“How many Garleans?”_ Brigid asked, speaking in her mother’s language over the linkpearl. She was hiding in the underbrush, her distinctive red hair tied up and hidden under a green bandanna.

_“It appears to be… two ten on this side.”_ Brigid hummed at the return from Thancred. Bless his heart, he was trying so hard, but it seemed he still had trouble with some of the numbers.

_“Twenty, dear,”_ she corrected absently, and laughed softly when he huffed. _“You’re doin’ fine. Numbers are bein’ hard.”_ She hummed again, slowly crawling through the brush, stepping as lightly as possible, settling into a less than comfortable but at least stable position. _“I’m seein… ‘round fifteen, could be sixteen dependin’ on if the magitek I’m seein’ is havin’ an active pilot.”_

_“…How many?”_ he asked after a long pause, and she could tell he was getting frustrated.

_“Five and ten, or six and ten. Cannae be sure.”_ She narrowed her eyes when she caught sudden movement. _“…Or bein’ an even two ten, if I’m seein’ right.”_

_“I struggle to think your lovely eyes would have a difficult time seeing anything,”_ he answered, the warmth in his voice curling around her. It would do to distract him from his frustrations with the sounds not sliding properly. She despaired of trying to teach him how everything looked when _written_.

_“Sadly darlin’ I’m nay very good at seein’ through tree trunks.”_ She smiled softly as she saw an opening. _“Stabbers live,”_ she murmured, crushing a smoke bomb on the ground to activate Hide. She ignored Thancred’s confirmation as she slowly approached her opening and just as quietly covered a Garelan’s mouth as she simultaneously slit his throat. After letting the Garlean fall to the ground she continued to slay the others in their out of the way corner, ducking back into the brush before the rest of the contingent could notice the missing men. _“Stabbers quiet, only five and ten remainin’.”_

_“As graceful as a dancer,”_ Thancred murmured, and she could hear the smile in his voice. _“Almost a shame we can’t hear that beautiful voice.”_

She laughed softly, continuing to crawl through the brush. _“After, perhaps. Or on the last few, ‘tis me callin’ card as far as the Garleans seem to be thinkin’.”_

_“Brigid Death Singer. Suitably poetic, wouldn’t you say?”_

Brigid laughed again before quickly pulling a Garlean into the brush with her and stabbing him as well. _“Likin’ it better than Whore of the Savages, they’re tryin’ to make me sound all tawdry and dull.”_

_“Stabbers live,”_ Thancred murmured, and Brigid smiled as she heard the wet sounds of Thancred taking out… oh, six Garleans, very nice. _“Stabbers quiet, down to… fourteen?”_

_“Aye, fourteen. Very good.”_ It had been quite the good idea, she thought, that they decided her family language would make a very good code, since none but the family and those they taught could speak it. It also made a fine way of helping him practice, especially those numbers.

_“Could I possibly convince Brigid Death Singer to sing for me once we return to the Stones?”_ he suddenly asked over the ‘pearl, and from the tone of his voice it was very clear what kind of _singing_ he had in mind.

She grinned and settled back to watch for more Garleans to separate themselves from the main host. _“Oh I dinnae darlin’, there’s bein’ so many songs, how could I be pickin’ from them all?”_

_“I might have a request or two. I do have my favorites. Perhaps the soft ones with the higher notes?”_

_“Oh well th—”_

_“WE CAN UNDERSTAND YOU BOTH OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?!”_ Connor suddenly interrupted, voice quite furious, tinged with profound embarrassment.

“Oh,” replied Thancred, sounding quite contrite. Brigid bit her lower lip to keep back a laugh, apparently she wasn’t the only one that had forgotten her brothers were also on that particular linkshell.

_“Ah, ‘tis sorry I am darlin’, anythin’ I can be doin’ for you?”_

_“If you’re going to flirt please take it to a private line,”_ Arthur requested primly, and Brigid could hear Araki quietly ask what in Eorzea Arthur was saying, and Matsu rebuking him for not paying attention during lessons. Aww, Arthur was trying to teach them too, how adorable!

_“Aye, alright,”_ Brigid murmured, hand shooting out to capture a Garelan by the ankle and pulling him into the brush to join the other one she’d killed. _“Darlin’, shall we be goin’ in with Death Blossom, be speedin’ this up so we can be gettin’ to the singing?”_

_“After you, Beautiful.”_

Brigid laughed and sprang out of the brush, and the last thing the Garleans heard before meeting their end was her voice raised in song.


	22. Reminder to Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #21: Repast

Matsu ducked his head into Arthur’s room, taking in the form of the Hyur whose head was bent over the desk, books stacked up around him with barely any space for him to write. “Love?” he called quietly, only a little disappointed that Arthur didn’t react.

He loved his boyfriend, he did dearly, but he worried about him so much when he got stuck in one of these research binges. He admired his industriousness and level of commitment to the things that mattered to him (and was forever thankful that he and Araki both counted in that to Arthur), his determination to prove himself to everyone even if he didn’t really need to. However it very much worried him when he would forget simple every day actions such as eating.

He sighed and stepped into the room properly. “Arthur dear,” he called, a little louder than before, giving him a chance to respond before putting a hand on his shoulder. He sighed internally as Arthur jumped under his hand and squawked in shock. “I did try to get your attention earlier,” he said softly when Arthur spun around and glared at him. “It isn’t my fault when you focus like you do.”

Arthur grumbled under his breath as he adjusted his glasses and ran his fingers through his hair. “What time is it?” he asked, almost pouting at him, and Matsu would find it adorable if it was clear from the dark circles under his eyes that he had been neglecting sleep as well. (The fact that there was a cold spot in the bed between himself and Araki was also a clear indication of Arthur’s sleep deprivation.)

He sighed and stroked Arthur’s hair, which was starting to grow a bit shaggy and he would have to trim it soon. “Eight bells at night,” he said softly, trying to bite back a soft smile as Arthur blinked up at him in shock. “We tried to call you down for dinner two bells ago, but I believe you threatened us with your own cooking if we interrupted you again.”

Arthur made a face as though he’d bitten into an under-ripe sun lemon. “I think I was going over advanced redox reactions and stoichiometry then.”

Matsu blinked down at him. “You realize I have no idea what any of that means,” he said blankly, and Arthur sighed as he stood, legs wobbling enough for him to lean against Matsu’s side, Matsu’s arms easily going around his waist.

“Someday I’m going to teach the two of you the basics,” he murmured, letting Matsu lead him out of the room.

“I might be able to follow, but I have my doubts about Araki.” He didn’t _mean_ to speak poorly of his brother, but he knew first hand that Araki could not focus on anything he couldn’t grasp in five minutes, even if he wanted to. Arthur grumbled to himself, but he was smiling as he did.

“What did you make?” he asked softly, knowing that no matter what Matsu would have made something amazing.

“Seafood stew, peperoncino, and spinach saute. There’s some chilled popoto soup in the ice box as well, though I do mean that for your lunch on the morrow.” He smiled as Arthur visibly perked up as he listed everything off. “I think the saute should work for the morrow as well.”

They walked into the kitchen/dinning room and Araki turned to give Arthur a bright smile. “Hey, you’re out of the book cave! Done solving the mysteries of the universe long enough to eat and so your boyfriends don’t forget what you look like?” he teased even as Matsu gently rapped his knuckles on top of Araki’s head.

“Ha ha,” Arthur grumbled as he sat at the small table… was it Araki? That Araki had made when the twins had moved in. Made or brought, he couldn’t remember. He absently took the cup of tea that Matsu sat down next to one of his hands and sipped it. He brought it to rest against his forehead, breathing deeply and enjoying the warmth of it soaking into his tired hands. Maybe he did need to stop for the night… “Good seafood?” he asked as Matsu sat a bowl down in front of him.

“Of course,” Matsu said with a smile. “I even added chunks of haddock just for you.” He sat down the plate of peperoncino and spinach next to him, and sat down with his own cup of tea.

Arthur poked at the soup a moment and grinned when he found the fish chunks. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” he breathed emphatically and promptly started eating.

It was properly seasoned, the fish practically melted in his mouth, and the shrimp and crab both had just the right amount of toothiness as they swam in the tomato sauce. The peperoncino was just as good, the sauce just as creamy and the pepper just barely on the right side of too hot. He didn’t even flinch as he bit down on a bit of chopped garlic. Meanwhile the saute was just the right amount of limp and was perfectly buttered.

“You really should get Bismark training, love,” he said between bites, having not realized just how hungry he was. He really needed to start keeping some kind of snack with him in the “book cave” as Araki put it. Matsu blushed lightly but shook his head.

“I’m happy cooking for us,” he said, sipping his tea. “Even if Araki doesn’t appreciate it.”

“Your food tastes _awesome_! Why should I eat it slowly?!” Araki draped himself over the back of the couch, hair brushing the floor. “Isn’t eating it fast the bigger compliment? It’s so good I need it all right now!”

“Because then you can taste it more,” Matsu said fondly, and Araki chuckled at him.

“I taste everything just fine. It’s Artie that we need to make sure eats at any speed.”

Arthur felt his ears go red at the teasing, but well he couldn’t deny when either of them were right. “Ignore me when I threaten you with my cooking,” he murmured.

“Of course dear,” Matsu said with an indulgent smile, reaching over to swipe away a bit of fog on Arthur’s glasses. “Now eat up, you haven’t eaten since breakfast after all.”


	23. Sleep is Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #22: Nap (Extra Credit Day)

Llewellyn hid a yawn behind his hand, shaking his head to clear it. It had been a long day, but it was a day that was not yet finished. He had many bells to go before he could take his rest.

Sammy jumped up on the arm of the chair and tilted his head up at Llewellyn. “Llew, you really should go to bed.”

Llewellyn smiled and brushed his hand through Sammy’s hair, shaking his head gently. “I would, but I’ve been assigned checking the Conjurers’ Guild inventory.” Sammy waited a moment, knowing that Llewellyn would eventually continue his thought. “I have to check the paper one first.” He held up a sheet of paper, and several more were spread out on the table before him, old copies to be checked against new ones.

Sammy placed his hand on the Elezen’s arm, smiling fondly. “I can check for you, if you want to get some sleep. Check marks don’t look that different from hand to hand.”

Lewellyn paused, and Sammy had to hold back a laugh as he saw the wheels start to turn in his beloved’s head. After a long moment his smile went soft and he nodded, leaning down to kiss Sammy’s forehead. “Thank you, lamb.”

Sammy laughed and nuzzled the other’s cheek before kissing it. “You’re welcome Lyn.”

* * *

Connor sat at a table in the Drowning Wench, feet propped on the table top, hand curled around a tankard. He watched the people moving in and out of the tavern, some riding up or down the lift, others walking out onto the catwalks or towards the Aftcastle.

It was mostly boring day in, day out activity, and what little questionable deals were taking part were being quickly taken care of by the Yellowjackets. Nothing that really required his skills as either a paladin or a dark knight. Fray could piss off, sometimes a man deserved a break.

He’d forgotten how warm the Drowning Wench could be in the evening this time of year though, and between that and the drink he was so very slowly dropping off, and fighting it off as much as possible. He grumbled to himself and ran a hand through his hair as he forced himself to wakefulness, heavily dropping his feet to the floor and knowing in the back of his head that he couldn’t fend it off for too long. Still, he watched the others, occasionally catching sight of a red headed female Miqo’te with a green bandanna leaning in the shadows. It tickled his mind, somehow that was important, but it didn’t fully register and he decided his drink was far more interesting anyway.

Soon enough his head hit the table and he didn’t find it worthwhile to to lift it. He was sleepy anyway, might as well catch a power nap right?

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed, his mind too fuzzy to grasp it, but he soon felt someone nudge his shoulder. “Connor lad?” came a quiet, male voice with a thick Limsan accent.

“U’cle Baderon..?” he mumbled, not wanting to spend any energy on looking up or opening his eyes.

The voice sighed. “Aye lad. Need to go to the inn now, sleep it off.” Connor grumbled again and soon slipped back into slumber.

Baderon sighed again as he took in the form of his honorary nephew, sprawled unconscious on a table in his tavern. Lad needed help, but Baderon was absolutely not the person to give it. “V’Kebbe lass, ‘elp me get the lad up and to bed.” The red-headed member of the Rouge’s Guild nodded and together they carried Connor into the inn.

* * *

Yugiri silently strode down the halls, not letting her footsteps echo off the stone of the Rising Stones. She did this whenever her travels brought her back to Mor Dhona: A quick perimeter check and a once over of the residential area before fully relaxing. It reassured her, knowing that she was helping to protect the people who took her own in with barely a second thought.

She reached one of the common rooms, expecting more of what she had seen: Silent halls and everyone, presumably, asleep. The light still being on surprised her, however, and she hesitated a moment.

Someone, an Elezen judging from the ears, was slumped in a chair, and it was only the faint sound of breathing that kept her from being concerned for them. She smiled softly to herself and rounded the chair to see who it was. There was a bag on the table, the items scattered over it as though the person had been sorting through it. Which did not surprise her as she realized she had found the sleeping form of William.

“Master William,” she murmured, lightly touching his shoulder. As much a she didn’t want to wake him, she suspected he would like to clean up and move to a more comfortable location for his rest. The only response she got was a soft snore, however. “Master William?” she asked again, getting the same response. Clearly, she thought, he needed the sleep far more than being woken up just to move.

She smiled again and reached for a blanket that lay on the top of the chair, draping it around him. “Sleep well, William,” she murmured, hesitating only a moment before pushing a lock of hair out of his face.

* * *

Brigid’s hands were shaking as she held her knitting needles, barely holding her project steady enough to knit her stitches. She had to pause to cough into her bent elbow, chest crackling sharply as she did. Her eyes were foggy, barely open.

“Bed. Now.”

She looked up and smiled weakly at Thancred. “Oh darlin’, you cannae be waitin’?” she asked, a slight twinkle making it past the fog. “Well be givin’ me a moment…” She hacked another cough into her elbow as Thancred wrapped his arms around her. She coughed again into his shoulder as he dug his knuckles into her back, trying to massage the muscles there out of spasm.

“You’re ill,” he murmured into an ear, and Brigid groaned, shaking her head. “You are. You need to rest, Spitfire.”

“But I’m needin’ to be doin’ things,” she muttered dejectedly. “Scarves and blankets are bein’ needed, and then I’m needin’ to be—”

“You need to rest,” he repeated, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her away so he could look her in the eye. “Please.” Brigid tried to shake her head but it came out more lolling. “Please do not make me worry about you,” he whispered, brushing away hair that was stuck to her face from her fever.

She watched him weakly, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Aye, alright.”

Thancred smiled and gently took the knitting from her, setting it to the side. “Thank you,” he murmured, sweeping her up in his arms to carry her back to their bed. She went limp against him, instantly falling asleep now that she was no longer fighting it. He sighed as he tucked her into bed, wetting a cloth with cool water and placing it on her forehead.

His poor Spitfire…

* * *

Araki and Matsu both watched Arthur from the relative safety of his door frame. Arthur himself was enclosed in his book cave again, his carbuncle Blodwen sitting nearby and looking up at her summoner sadly. The twins glanced at each other, eyes clear with worry.

“So are we going to wait for him to just collapse?” Araki asked. “He’s barely slept this week.”

Matsu shrugged. “We’re out of ingredients for a sleeping potion,” he murmured. “I’m not sure if any of them are at a decent price on the board either.”

“Could ask Brigid to come by.”

“She’s ill,” he said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t ask her to cast Sleep when she herself needs it so much.” Of course it was only the Thaumaturges who had access to Sleep and their only thaumaturge (even if former) needed the spell more than Arthur did.

Araki sighed and tapped his head against the door frame. “Then what, exactly, are we supposed to do, oh beloved brother? Grab him and tie him to the bed until he falls asleep?”

“Arthur isn’t into bondage.” He looked over and smirked at Araki. “At least, not as the one being tied down.”

Araki rolled his eyes. “That’s my sort of joke and you know it.” He was about to continue when they heard a light ‘thunk’. They blinked at each other and looked back inside the door, sighing in unison as they saw Arthur had well and truly passed out. Blodwen was now on her hind legs, front paws light on Arthur’s thigh and a look of concern on her face. “Guess we did just have to wait.”

“Help me carry him to bed,” Matsu said softly, already walking into Arthur’s study. “Then we’ll all settle in for a nap.”

Araki chuckled and did so, scritching behind the Ruby carbuncle’s ear. “And we’ll have Blodwen here sleep on his head just to make sure.” Blodwen chirped and hopped up on Araki’s shoulder as he helped Matsu pick him up and have him settle comfortably. “Thank the Twelve he wears such lose clothes when he’s home,” he said softly. “Get his glasses.”

Matsu nodded and gently removed the rectangular frames, slipping them into the collar of his shirt. “Indeed, it’ll be more comfortable for all of us to sleep.”

Araki yawned despite himself. “Sleep is nice.”

Sleep was _very_ nice.


	24. Charity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #23: Alms

It would be best to go with non-perishables, Matsu thought to himself as he looked through one of his cookbooks. Jerkies, dried fruits, anything he could can, and the like. They could travel easier and last for longer than things like breads.

He decided to start with the fruits, coring and slicing mirror apples, then slicing bananas, oranges, and filling a sheet with cherries. Once he checked to be sure the oven was at a low enough eat he slid the fruit into it, leaving them to dehydrate as he began to slice faerie apples for an applesauce.

He had some aldgoat jerky already prepared, surplus from preparing for Arthur’s research binges, Araki’s training sessions, and general adventuring. He did make a note to pull out the slices he had marinating in the icebox and that he would soon need more aldgoat meat as well. Ah well, he’ll send Araki out for it, it would be good for him to hunt a little, get that energy of his out. He dropped the apple slices into the pot with some spices and set it to cook down, smiling as the scent of cinnamon and apple filled the air. He really should make applesauce more often, but it was both time and gil intensive to collect six ponze’s worth of apples, never mind finding the apple juice to cook them in.

Maybe, if they ever got a proper house instead of living in Arthur’s apartment, he could talk Arthur into having an apple tree or two. That would be nice, go with the herb garden he wanted as well.

He checked on the fruit and was pleased with how they were progressing. He moved on to preparing the vegetables for canning. This round would have to wait to be donated, it was taking much longer than he had expected today. Thankfully he had some items already done from their own surplus he could take down instead, then bring the others later. With that plan in place he checked that his water was boiling and dunked the millioncorn into it to blanch them, setting them aside for a moment in ice water to then laddle the boiling water into jars containing emerald beans, Coerthan beets, and bell peppers and. Once that was done he began to cut the corn off the cob, then packed them into empty jars as well, adding the boiling water. He tapped each jar against the counter gently to remove air bubbles and sealed them. Finally he put them in the stock pot to let them boil.

Matsu sighed and wiped his hands on his apron. It was work, but it was good work and would go to a good cause. Arthur had been kind enough to leave Líle behind so he turned to her. “Keep an eye on the stove for me, lovely,” he murmured, kneeling down to lightly tap the center of her forehead with a smile. Líle chipped and nodded, nuzzling his hand. “That’s a good girl, come get me if you think something is going wrong.” The little Emerald nodded and trotted over to sit in front of the stove, watching it intently. Matsu smiled and stepped into the pantry, loading jars into a box. Tomatoes, emerald beans, buffalo beans, asparagus, beets, all of it into the box. He also grabbed one of the jars full of aldgoat jerky and poured them on top of waxed paper, wrapping the lot tightly before adding that to the collection. “Líle, do you remember where I put the dried fruits?” A chirp was his answer and he looked down, finding the packets on the bottom shelf. He laughed softly. “That’s right,” he said to himself. “Thank you dear!”

He knelt down and selected rolanberries, mirror apples, peaches, apricots, and dates, placing several packets each in the box alongside the other items. With a bit of work he settled the box on his hip as he stood, easily carrying it out. He smiled when he found Líle still staring at the oven. “Do you remember how to turn everything off?” he asked, and nodded when she stood on her hind legs and gently tapped a switch with a paw. “Good. If something goes wrong, turn it off for me.” She chirped again, and he made a note to give her an extra few pets when he returned.

He left the apartment and made his way to the Aftcastle, weaving his way through the crowds as he went. He smiled as he turned towards the Seventh Sage, ducking through the door. “Matsu!” cheered a tiny Miqo’te lady, gold eyes sparkling as he sat the box on the counter she was standing behind. “Oh, that’s a lot today!”

“And much more tomorrow, I’zhexa,” he promised. “Life conspired to put me through a few delays.” He grinned. “Tomorrow I’ll have cherries and bananas.”

I’zhexa’s ears perked up and she clapped softly. “I know there’s many who have been looking forward to those!” She started going through the box, taking a quick inventory of the contents, smile getting wider. “Oh this is wonderful! Yes, this will go a long way to helping many families.” She looked up at him. “Will you still be bringing that box of clothes?”

He nodded. “It might be next week; Brigid is ill and there’s no call to risk anyone’s health or a lower quality product. I can however assure you there are plenty of shoes.”

I’zhexa smiled even as tears started to bead at the corner of her eyes. “You all do so much for us,” she murmured, and Matsu reached out to pat her blue hair soothingly. “You could be helping others who need your help more, and yet here you are.”

He smiled sadly. “The others take care of Ishgard, Doma, and Ala Mhigo. Let me take care of you as well.” He handed her a handkerchief and waited for her to compose herself and dab at her eyes.

“Still, thank you,” she murmured, looking up at him with a smile. “Will you still be able to help the soup kitchen this weekend?”

Matsu nodded. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

The Maelstrom, Zhloe’s orphanage, the Widows and Orphans fund, the Enclave, they all needed help and supplies, but the rest of the party could handle them easily. But as long as Matsu lived he would do whatever he could to keep the children of La Noscea from suffering the troubles that Arthur and the others had faced.


	25. Muted Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #24: Undertone

Brigid sighed as she picked through the skeins of yarn on offer, shaking her head at each one. “There’s bein’ somethin’ off ‘bout them,” she murmured to Higiri, who looked up at her, very confused.

“What do you mean, Miss Brigid? They all look very nice to me.”

The Elezen shook her head, propping her cheek on a fist. “Nay, nay, there’s bein’ somethin’ wrong with the colors. I cannae quite place it.” Higiri hummed softly, trying to find what Brigid couldn’t figure out. Brigid sighed and shook her head, tilting her head.

“We’re needin’ to be gettin’ ingredients for sleepin’ potions for Araki and Matsu, we should be pickin’ that up, be ponderin’ over this later.” Higiri nodded and followed after her, still turning over the problems in her mind.

Later that day they came back by the yarn stall, arms loaded down with their purchases of the day. Brigid sighed and went back to looking over the yarns, frowning deeply. Higiri hung back, keeping an eye on their purchases as Brigid let her mind puzzle over the problem. Finally she sighed and looked up at the person manning the stall. “‘Tis sorry I am, but can I be seein’ the unprocessed wool?” The Lalafell nodded and ducked under the counter to dig through the stock.

Higiri sighed to herself, wondering just why her friend was bothered so much by this. It was just yarn, and it looked perfectly fine to her. Even if Brigid didn’t like it surely someone else would, yes? However, Higiri understood that Brigid was a Craftswoman, with all the finickiness and obsession with figuring out a problem that the capital letter indicated, especially with her focus on fiber arts.

Her attention was brought back to Brigid when the other woman sighed loudly. “‘Course ‘twould be somethin’ so bloody simple,” she grumbled. She turned to Higiri, holding up a lock of wool. “‘Tis _gray_!” She huffed out a breath and turned to the yarn, all of which was a dull version of the color they had been dyed. “I’m bein’ a blind woman for not seein’ that earlier.” She selected a few hanks, three each of muted pink and dusty purple, and handed over the gil with a smile. She looked over to Higiri, still smiling. “Be makin’ a lovely shawl for Minfilia, aye?”

Higiri smiled as well and nodded. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”


	26. Roses on my Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #25: Rose (extra credit day)
> 
> Title is taken from an Emma Goldman quote: "I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck."

It had started with a single blossom. Brigid couldn’t remember where she had been the day a young Miqo’te boy had handed her six year old self a yellow rosebud, but she did remember _him_. Blue hair and eyes, a fluffy tail, a pretty smile with a gap in his teeth. It had been a small bud, only the very tip of it open, enough for her to see the sunny color peeking past the green calyx.

She remembered the rosebud as well, clear as a day at sea. It had been small, so very small. It had five leaves along the stem, and someone had broken the thorns off, likely to prevent hurting the people handing them out and the ones being handed them. But she could see the yellow, and knew that it would bloom if only she could take care of it.

She had begged Mama for an empty bottle or one of their cups so she could put it in water and tend it until it bloomed. Mama had thought, well if she continued to indulge Llewellyn with his taking in animals, she could certainly indulge her daughter with a simple flower. So a pretty bottle had been found, and Brigid had tended to it nearly religiously, her smile as bright as the flower when it finally bloomed fully. It had a full head of petals, each and every one of them a miniature sun in her eyes.

She had begged for a full rosebush once those miniature suns began to set, even a miniature rosebush would have made her happy, but sadly even Da had turned her down, citing the need for as much space in their tiny garden as they could keep. She had been very sad, but she understood, since that garden was what supplemented their food.

As she had gotten older and more aware of the costs of things, she had recoiled at the price of even a miniature rosebush.

It was only when she joined The Gilded Rose that she found herself with enough funds to buy that miniature rosebush, and she filled her bedroom with them, first with vases full of them, and then three miniature bushes in their own pots. Still, she dreamed of a garden full of roses and other flowers. Lilacs, irises, lilies, sunflowers. All flowers, little thought given to needs. To have that would be to have reached security in her life.

When friends and clients had discovered her fondness for roses, they started to send her gifts of them, all bouquets. But they were all reds and pinks, the occasional white. Not a single yellow blossom, not a single head of miniature suns. She loved them all of course, for they were roses, but they were not _her_ rose. Pink was too soft, white turned to brown far too soon, and while red was that lovely color of blood, it was just so… _common_. Everyone got red roses. There was no _thought_ put into it, like giving a lover a diamond over another gem they preferred, such as a garnet or a ruby. It was too _easy_.

When she moved on she gave her bushes to those who had mattered to her most during her time in the Rose, knowing they would be well cared for. Her rose tattoo would have to be enough sunshine for her, at least for a time. She could live with that, and when she knew she could afford it she would buy a yellow oldrose to wear in her hair. She smiled brighter on those days.

As her relationship with Thancred grew and deepened, he would bring her flowers. Her irises, her lilies, her lilacs. Again her room was full of them, and when they returned to the Rising Stones once the matter of the Crystal Braves had been settled, she nearly fell to her knees to find that someone had protected them, had tended to them. None stepped forward to claim responsibility for it, no matter how much she asked so that she could thank them as they deserved.

She received more flowers. Jasmines, clover, even forget-me-nots. Her room was a riot of colors and scents and she adored every moment of it, every bloom she found in her possession. Some would be dried and made into potpourri, others would end up as hair ornaments, either worn by herself or sold via the boards to those who would.

One day Thancred took her by the hand, raised a finger to his smiling lips and silently lead her to her (their) room, shaking his head at her raised eyebrow.

He opened the door and she gasped sharply, a hand flying to her mouth in joyous surprise. There on the table was a full sized rose bush, settled happily in a light yellow pot. The buds were still closed, but peeking through the calyx was the color of sunlight. She turned to stare at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“You prefer yellow roses,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. She laughed, tears of happiness beading at the corners of her eyes as she threw her arms around him in return.

“Aye, and I was tellin’ you to nay be gettin’ the idea of red ones in your head,” she murmured, smiling brightly. He chuckled and kissed her temple fondly. “But a full sized rosebush darlin’… ‘tis bein’ so much, just for me…”

He shook his head and kissed her sweetly. He pulled back and pressed his forehead against hers, smiling. “It is the time you have spent on your rose that makes her so important,” he whispered, laughing fondly as she tightened her arms around him, Brigid laughing even as she cried happily.

“Couldnae have been givin’ me a greater gift,” murmured said, voice wobbling with her tears. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for you, Spitfire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thancred's final line is originally from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.


	27. Night of the Living Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #26: Not a Weapon

“Well?” Arthur asked, hands clenched in Matsu’s apron. “What do you think?”

Araki and Matsu both stared down at… whatever it was.

“Whatever it was” was… they had no idea. There was a lemon, nearly cut completely in two and barely held together with a flap of rind, floating in a puddle of buttery lemon juice and melted sugar. What looked like it was supposed to be some sort of crust encircled it. Chunks of it also floated in the butter lemon syrup, making it seem to have collapsed in on itself. Or perhaps even exploded, it was difficult to tell.

The Raen twins then looked up at each other, both knowing what needed to be said but both completely unwilling to say it. A silent conversation passed before Matsu grimaced slightly and looked up at Arthur. “What is it?” he asked, knowing it was a horrible question, and feeling incredibly guilty as Arthur visibly deflated.

“It’s a Bloodshore Tide Pool Pudding,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the floor. Araki started poking at it with a fork. “Maybe I should have boiled it instead of steaming.” Matsu privately thought that wouldn’t have made any difference.

“Think it’s edible?” Araki asked, continuing to poke at it. He sank the tines into the “crust” and it pulled away like solidified broth, jiggling as it fell into the syrup. He blinked, startled, and slowly moved away from it. “That’s a no,” he murmured.

Arthur deflated even more, and Matsu’s heart broke for him. He stood and pulled Arthur into his arms, rubbing his back as Arthur buried his face into his chest. “You tried,” he comforted him softly. “Maybe you can try again someday.”

“It’s like a Slime!” Araki said behind them, and Matsu looked up at the ceiling, begging for patience from the Twelve even as Arthur clenched his fists in Matsu’s shirt. “Sun lemon right? Looks like a pair of eyes. Oh! Let’s call it Andre!”

Both Arthur and Matsu silently agreed to ignore _that_ sentence.

“Honey lemon,” Arthur mumbled into Matsu’s chest, and Matsu started to stroke his hair. He’d paid quite the price for that, then. He really had been trying so hard.

“Let me see the recipe later,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the crown of Arthur’s head. “We’ll try together and see where you went wrong.” When Arthur nodded Matsu turned to look over his shoulder and huffed. “Araki what are you doing?”

Araki looked over at Matsu, frozen mid-fork poke. “It might be edible,” he said softly. “Figured I might as well try.” Matsu rolled his eyes, clearly dismissing his brother, which was good enough for Araki to break a little off with his fork. He watched it jiggle for a moment before scowling as he gathered up his courage, and then ate it.

And he promptly regretted it, feeling a shocking _heat_ spread across his tongue and down his throat. He coughed, practically choking really, and flailed about a moment before he found Matsu’s tea mug and chugged the whole thing in one go, gasping roughly as he heavily set the mug back down.

Matsu stared at him as Arthur flinched, watching out the corner of an eye. “…That bad?” he asked, hands settled on Arthur’s back.

“Hand Andre here over to Aetherochem,” he choked out before scrubbing his tongue with a napkin. “Practically a bio-weapon.”

Arthur growled and pulled away from Matsu, furious. “My cooking is not a bio-weapon! Nor does it have a name like that!”

Matsu sighed, running a hand through his hair. Better angry than hurt and sad though, and he let the two of them bicker, taking advantage of their distraction to tip it into the bin, hoping that Araki wasn’t right about the Slime part or the bio-weapon part. When nothing seemed to happen after a few moments Matsu relaxed and went over the ice box, pulling out the ingredients for ice cream. That usually calmed the both of them down.

Later that night Araki crept into the kitchen and dug out a chunk of “Andre,” and he did indeed hand it over to the Aetherochemistry department, so they could study it and hopefully learn to counteract it if it was in fact a Slime precursor. He only hoped they didn’t hate him or Arthur too much for it.


	28. Casual Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #27: Fling
> 
> RATING HAS CHANGED. This is the sex chapter folks.

She had thought it would be a fling.

_Pressed hard against the wall, a warm body pressed against hers, hard and angular. They gazed into each other’s eyes for only a split second before her lips were captured by the other’s, groaning into his mouth._

He was attractive, his hands rough from knives, and he had a lovely smile. It wouldn’t be a hardship to share a night with him, to stave off the loneliness and the chill of a Thanalan night. He seemed amenable, so she had taken him to bed, and oh what a night it had been.

_Hands grasping at her hips, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her head tilted back, letting him mouth at her neck, lips and teeth dropping a scattering of marks that neither of them would care about hiding on the morrow. Her moans like a song, his groans the percussion keeping time. Her nails digging into his back, laughing at his sudden gasp of pain._

It had continued. They still considered it a fling, it was simply a long fling. Brigid continued to enjoy herself with other partners, as did Thancred. If they continued to come back to each other, if he more often spent time in her bed than in his, well. The familiarity was comfortable.

_Her skirt shoved up to her waist, his pants undone just enough. A leg barely holding her upright, the other held up by a hand, wrapped around his waist. She mewled softly as she felt him move within her, stretching around him. He breathed hard into her ear, free hand grasping at a breast, freed of its lacy confines._

Then _feelings_ had gotten involved. Gifts and fond words, missing the other while apart. It was still a fling though. Really. It really was just a fling, because they said so. They politely ignored the betting pools on when they would profess their affection in words, when one would put a ring on the other’s finger. If the others wanted to part with their gil on such silly bets, that was up to them.

_They came nearly simultaneously, groans and weak whimpers. They panted the way down, clinging to each other as they let the wall support their combined weight. Kisses were slow and languid, Thancred cupping Brigid’s face and digging his fingers into her hair. Brigid clenched her hand in his shirt, still shuddering in the aftermath. She gasped quiet words between kisses, only a few Thancred could understand but they were enough for him._

And when a ring slid home on her hand, when her child declared him “Da!”, was it still a fling? they were asked. In response they only smiled, shrugged, and said nothing at all.

_Green eyes locked with silvery brown, and while no words passed their lips, what they were thinking hung in the air between them, as surely as if it had been said._

_“I love you.”_


	29. The Echoless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #28: Echo

There were things most people knew about the Warriors of Light: Feli was a Bismark-trained chef, if you made Llewellyn or Matsu angry it was best to start running, and of course the majority of them were blood related in some way. Only Sammy and Feli didn’t have a blood relative as a fellow Warrior. The thing that most people _didn’t_ know?

William, the so-called Retainer of Light? Wasn’t. Oh he was indeed related to them; there was absolutely no question of him being Brigid’s twin brother. Certainly enough people somehow confused the two for each other. However he was in no way a favored of Hydaelyn, nor did he have the Echo.

Part of him felt guilty for it, that he alone didn’t suffer from the visions that seemed to be getting stronger and more painful the longer they served as Hydaelyn’s Chosen. He would watch his sister and brothers suffer, watch their beloveds suffer, watch Feli suffer, and remain standing, the only one to tend to them if the resulting headache was bad enough for any one of them. He wanted to shoulder the burden, perhaps even keep any one of them from it completely. He wanted to help, more than keeping a blindfold over his sister’s eyes and helping her sip some tea to ease the pain, or rubbing Sammy’s back while Llewellyn groaned in pain.

Sammy especially should never have been thrust into this life, William had often thought.

But there was another part of him, which he studiously ignored, that whispered to him “Why not you?” Why not him, Hydaelyn? Why was he alone of his siblings not “good enough” for her? Why didn’t she want him? Was he not as martially skilled as his sister? Was he not as compassionate as his elder brother? Was he not as committed, sacrificing, and determined as the others? What did he not have that the others did, Hydaelyn?

But that was an unfair thought, and he knew it. There was a reason Hydaelyn hadn’t chosen him, he simply had to wait it out and discover what it was. Perhaps it was simply to be there for the Warriors, tend to their needs when they were unable, and to make sure their packs were properly organized. Someone to mind their lives when they had the lives of everyone else on their minds.

…If that was his duty, good thing he preferred to stay in the background, unnoticed, unbothered. Invisibility had uses, after all. If something needed doing that would reflect badly on the others, he could do it and none would look twice at him.

He was only a simple retainer, after all.


	30. Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #29: Dote

It had become their little ritual, somehow. Neither of them were quite sure when it started, especially since they each already had someone to do the jobs they were now doing for each other: Their twin brothers.

Still, somehow it had come about that each night and each morning, when given the opportunity, Brigid and Alisaie would come together and braid each other’s hair. Brigid had extended the invitation to Lyse as well, once she realized the sheer _volume_ of hair the woman had been hiding from them all, but she had declined.

There had been a bit of a learning curve for Brigid. Alisaie had a specific hairbrush she used or there would be no brushing at all, and the poor dear had a tender scalp on top of it, so Brigid couldn’t tug too hard and every knot had to be teased apart before a brush could even go near it. She prided herself that only once had the event ended in tears, and that had been after a swim in rougher seas than had been expected.

Alisaie’s hair slid like water between her fingers, so very fine. Thankfully she had a great deal of it, which made the braiding process much easier, at least as far as Brigid was concerned. The aldgoathair brush was soft but ran through the strands easily, and at least once she had sent the girl to sleep as she brushed. It was harder to do the morning braiding, since the swordplay she preferred required a tighter braid, and with her tender scalp it was more difficult to get the proper look.

“It isn’t fair how you only need the top half done,” she had pouted once as she braided Brigid’s hair in the fishtail style she had taken up after Ul’dah, as Brigid often called the events of the banquet. Brigid had giggled brightly, which only made the younger Elezen pout.

At night a looser braid was reasonable, since the only purpose it had was to minimize tangles. Brigid’s was already done, the wavy mass pulled into a thick rope of a braid, a bit looser than she liked but Alisaie was still learning that Brigid didn’t mind a firmer hand, so she didn’t mind overmuch. If it came out during the night she could nudge William awake, after all.

Brigid was as careful as she could be, running Alisaie’s brush through her hair, leading the brush with her other hand to make sure she wouldn’t run across any tiny knots on the way. She had found Alisaie’s hair was prone to them and they were often more painful than the thick mats. When the other Elezen’s shoulders shook she paused, an eyebrow raised. “Alisaie darlin’, you alright?”

“Of course I am,” she replied, voice tight.

Brigid didn’t believe a word of it. Especially as she saw Alisaie try to wipe at her face without being noticed. “Aye… alright darlin’, just be tellin’ me if I’m pullin’ ‘gain.” She was about to resume brushing when suddenly she found herself with an armful of tearful younger woman, hugging her tightly and her face pressed against her shoulder. She could feel tears seeping through her nightgown. “Darlin’ lass?” she murmured, hesitating to return the embrace, “Was I upsettin’ you sweetie?”

Alisaie shook her head, rough against her shoulder. “No, no, it’s only…” She inhaled, and it shuddered only a little. “I always wished to have a sister,” she murmured, hugging Brigid tighter.

Brigid felt a warmth in her chest, the familiar sensation of her heart utterly melting, and she finally enclosed Alisaie in a hug. “Oh baby lass,” she murmured in return, resting her cheek on her head, fingers idly running through Alisaie’s hair. “I was always wantin’ one too.”


	31. Worries Unburdened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #31: Close

_It was overwhelming._

Though it had taken years it seemed as though it was a blink, a breath, a heartbeat of time. Time that she had gone from a worried young girl, caring for her tragedy-stricken family to a stronger young woman, caring for the whole realm, and she never had to do it alone. There were so many others now, no longer that tiny family clustering together in the hopes of finding warmth, surviving the cold world they inhabited. Now there were others, enough to share the burdens of the realm with them.

_It was so much easier to breathe._

Even with more to worry about, more to care for, with those extra shoulders it was so much easier. She had Y’Shtola and Urianger, to answer the questions she couldn’t find the answers to herself. She had Lyse when all she needed was a smile and a friend to talk to. She had Tataru to help outfit the group. The greater Sicons were there for when she needed a ready hand to help her beat back the imbalances of the world. Alphinaud, as much as he was _himself_ , was always there to tease fondly. She had Alisaie, the little sister she had always wanted. There was Thancred.

_It was bright and warm._

Her Thancred. Her _Miodóg_ , her Dagger. She had him to fill every empty part of her that she didn’t realize she’d carried with her all her life. She was there to support him any time he felt weak, remind him of everything good in the realm. She wore a ring on her finger, though they never had made any plans to do anything about it. Perhaps they never would. It certainly never mattered to either of them. All she needed was him asleep against her shoulder as they curled up together, her sweet child curled against her chest.

_She couldn’t breathe._

Her perfect, sweet child. A beauty altogether unexpected but never _ever_ once unwelcome. Though her son was born in an uncertain place during uncertain times, never once did she feel anything less than certain about him. Her perfect son, with so many to love him, to teach him so many things. So many uncles and aunts to dote on him, honorary cousins in the Doman Children who had been so excited to meet him. Perhaps even a father figure in Thancred, should he someday choose that title.

Her perfect child, the son who took her breath away every time she looked at him, to whom she would hopefully leave a more peaceful realm. She couldn’t imagine loving anyone so much.

_She had found the light, broken through the surface._

It amazed her some days, just how far everything had come. Just how much her world had grown and changed, and in nearly all ways for the better. She and her family saved countries, beat back those that would cause imbalance, found those who would love them in all ways. They found more family, collected those in desperate need of one and asked them to join. They remembered those they had lost, but rarely let it overtake them.

As long as Brigid had those she loved close by, she knew all was well. She knew she could rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end. It's been a wonderful and crazy and surprising past two months. I never expected even one kudo or one comment, and here I am. Thank you so much, everyone who's ever clicked on this crazy thing of mine. Everyone who's left a comment, left a kudo, you all mean so much to me.
> 
> Thank you, truly.


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